


Deeper than the Night

by miyukijane



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: A little angst, Adventure & Romance, Alistair is adorable, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-12 05:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 45,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7922386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyukijane/pseuds/miyukijane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years after defeating the Archdemon, Warden Commander Elissa Cousland is married to the love of her life, certain that nothing can disrupt her happiness... and then the nightmares start. Now she must race against the disease in her blood, searching for a cure in a desperate quest that threatens to tear apart the very fabric of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Denerim

**Author's Note:**

> This story came out of wondering what happened to my Warden as I was playing Dragon Age: Inquisition. I tried to imagine new challenges for her, and what she'd struggled with after defeating the Archdemon. As it turns out, happily-ever-after is not exactly in the cards for her... but then, is it ever, for any hero? 
> 
> This story includes some fighting but no graphic description, some romance but no explicit scenes. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy it! xo

I woke up sweating, the chiming voice still ringing in my ears.

I reached over to the other side of the bed instinctively, but it was empty and cold. The winter sky was just starting to lighten from black to steely gray.

 Biscuit lifted his head from his bed on the floor and licked my fingertips in encouragement. I ran my hand along his broad head and tickled him behind his ears.

 “Good morning, boy,” I said. “Give me a moment and we’ll go out.” I forced myself to sit up. My nightshirt clung to my back and I dropped my aching head in my hands. The dream flashed through my head with a sudden, searing clarity. Black wings over a black city, an endless song chanting in the distance. The voice was sweet, seductive, like tantalizing music that’s always just slightly out of reach. It sounded like the archdemon’s voice, but how could that be? I’d killed it. Was the memory of its voice and presence was still lodged deep inside my bones? This was the third nightmare this week.

“Are you ill, your Highness?”

Amethyne was so quiet I hadn’t heard her come in. Not for the first time, I gave serious consideration to the idea of making wooden clogs mandatory footwear for the servants, especially the elven ones, who were preternaturally light of foot. I was too easily startled these days.

“I’m all right. Thank you.” I accepted the mug of water from her and drank. I desperately needed a bath. “Just a bad dream.”

“Another one?” She frowned. “About the darkspawn again?”

“It’s a Grey Warden thing. Nothing to worry about.” I waved away her concern.

She raised an eyebrow at me. “Does the king agree?”

“I’m just under some stress, that’s all.”

The young elf clucked her tongue in disapproval, glancing pointedly at the books that buried my desk. “You're staying up too late, and working too hard, if you don't mind my saying so, your Highness.” She deftly started the fire in the hearth, bringing a little bit of warmth and cheer to the cold, dim chamber.

She was right. I’d gone through every text the castle had on darkspawn and the taint, searching for a hint of some way to stop or slow the Calling. I’d combed the antique shops in Denerim and sent letters to book dealers in Amaranthine. I’d asked the Seneschal at Vigil’s Keep to collect anything he could salvage from the destroyed archives there.

My efforts had so far turned up nothing I didn’t already know.

She eyed my disheveled state. “Shall I draw you a bath?”

“That would be divine.”

She called for servants to bring hot water and supervised the process of setting up the bath while I, wrapped in a wool cloak for warmth, tried to bring some order to the piles of books and scrolls I’d been studying. Amethyne had settled in very well at the palace. When I’d first encountered her, she’d been just a kid, begging in the streets of the Alienage. I found out later that she was the daughter of Iona, a lady-in-waiting to my mother’s friend Landra. Iona was killed along with my family during Rendon Howe’s massacre. After the Battle of Denerim, I’d gone back to look for Amethyne and asked her if she’d like to live at the palace and work for me. She’d learned quickly, and proved able and discreet.

“A message arrived by raven during the night,” Amethyne said as she got the bath cloths out. “You’ll find it there on your desk.”

“From the king?” I winced at the wistfulness in my voice. It wasn’t very regal. But then, it was hopeless pretending to be in control of myself where Alistair was concerned.

“I believe it is from Montsimmard.”

I found it, hiding under Brother Genitivi’s _Tales of the Destruction of Thedas_. I unwrapped the silver ribbon from the tightly rolled scroll. I’d been eagerly awaiting this reply.

> _Warden-Commander, Regret to report no records of origin of Joining in our archives. Nothing found on research of advancement of darkspawn corruption. Suggest contacting Weisshaupt. Maker watch over you. — Clarel de Chanson, Commander of the Grey, Montsimmard._

Some part of me had known this would be the answer, but I felt deflated nevertheless. I had in fact sent a messenger with a letter to Weisshaupt, but it would take him weeks to get there, and that was if he wasn’t slowed by snows or other dangers on the road. Once he got there, I wasn’t at all certain the First Warden would treat my request with any seriousness. I had to go there myself.

I sank into the hot water while Amethyne brushed out my hair. I luxuriated in the steam. One good thing about being queen was regular access to these amenities that, during my year on the run, I swore I would never again take for granted. “Ah, that’s more like it. There’s nothing like a good warm bath to wash the bad dreams away.”

“Indeed. Although you seem as though you might need more than hot water today, Your Highness.” She looked into my face, searching my eyes with mild anxiety. “Let me call for a healer.”

“Absolutely not.” The last thing I needed was a rumor floating around that the Warden-Commander was starting to experience the Calling, not that I believed that’s what these dreams were. It was too early for me to hear the Calling. Wasn’t it?

I realized I’d spoken rather too sharply. I offered her a smile that I hoped would reassure her. “I just need a good breakfast.”

It didn’t work. She knew me too well. “The king will want to know how you fare,” she said quietly. “You could send him a letter. If it’s to do with the darkspawn—“

“I will tell him, when I’m ready.” In truth, I didn’t want him to know. He’d only worry, and he had enough on his plate.

The elf was quiet for a moment, then said, “You once told me that the foundation of your bond with the king is that you hide nothing from each other.”

Oh, how naive I’d been, I thought bitterly. “What’s on my schedule this morning?” I stood, and she wrapped a thick cloth around me, rubbing vigorously to dry me off.

“The new Captain of the Denerim Guard would like to meet with you, and the Chancellor asked me to remind you that the Council is awaiting your most recent report on the security of Amaranthine. There are also a number of personal letters that came by courier. The postmistress is still sorting them all, so I’ll have them brought to you after breakfast.”

I groaned. This was how my day began, these days, with meetings and petitions and decisions that I felt ill-qualified to make. It almost made me miss the darkspawn. If only I could block all of it out, just for one day. Maybe, once Alistair was back, I could kidnap him and we could ride out of the city into the hills, stopping for a picnic lunch and an afternoon snowball fight. I let myself indulge in that fantasy as Amethyne slipped a fresh shirt over my arms and fussed with the laces.

But I knew I’d be lucky to catch a few words with him, let alone a full day of playing truant. He’d been gone for five days, and wouldn’t be home for at least six weeks. All the work for him was piling up. I did what I could to ease his burdens, but my hands were full already with concerns under my jurisdiction.

During the few years that we’d been married, we’d rarely managed to be in the same place at the same time. Being queen — technically, “princess consort” — had seemed like a wonderful idea at the Landsmeet, but I hadn’t counted on having so many darkspawn sightings, mage uprisings, and threats of foreign invasions to contend with. Not to mention the massive task of rebuilding the Wardens in Ferelden. There were barely a handful of us installed at Vigil’s Keep, and a desperate need for more. I’d done several tours of Ferelden specifically looking for recruits. I’d probably have to do another one in the spring. There was a shortage of good soldiers here. Many good fighters had perished, victims of the civil war or the Blight. Some that remained alive were damaged, traumatized by what they had seen, or infected with darkspawn blood and dying in hospices. I couldn’t ask those who had already suffered so much to pledge their lives once more. Still others had fled the conflict in Ferelden to all corners of Thedas. Part of Alistair’s errand in the Free Marches was to find such Fereldans and convince them to return home.

When the king and I did manage to steal some time together, a week here, two weeks there, we were often strained and awkward with each other, almost as if we had become strangers in the intervening time apart. The events of the Blight had changed us. We needed time to rebuild, time to just be again. Time to heal. But time was in short supply.

“You will have time to see him,” Amethyne said quietly.

I started, a bit embarrassed that my thoughts were so clear on the surface. I’ve never been able to hide my feelings very well. “I’m that transparent, am I?”

Her voice was soothing as she braided my hair. “It is not a failing, your Highness. The love you and the king bear for each other is an inspiration to all of Ferelden.”

She didn’t have to say it, because I knew: the kingdom’s inspiration was founded on hope. Hope for an heir, for a return to stability, for an end to the uncertainty. The country had been torn apart for lack of legitimate leadership before; we could not let that happen again. Ferelden’s future must be secured by a Theirin heir to the throne.

Bearing an heir was also my dearest wish, for entirely selfish reasons. I longed for a little piece of Alistair and me, the best parts of us merged. His eyes and my hair, perhaps; his mercy and my steel. His sense of humor too, no doubt. I smiled in spite of my sadness. I could picture the little babe so clearly when I closed my eyes. A child could mend the rift between us, I knew it. An heir to the throne and a chance for us to start again. A new life. My heart ached.

Amethyne sensed the change in my mood. “If there's nothing else,” she murmured, and quietly withdrew.

The rest of the palace was already buzzing with activity. My intention had been to go for a quick walk with Biscuit and then delve into the tasks of my day but the new Captain of the Guard caught up to me almost as soon as I left my chambers. He must have been lying in wait for me, the sneaky bastard.

“Greetings, Warden-Commander,” he said. “I wish to discuss recruitment in the Ferelden army.”

“Good morning, Captain. Army recruitment? That is your domain, serah, not mine.”

He smiled, showing a lot of teeth. “Indeed it is. But we share a common problem. Both the Wardens and the Ferelden army need to build up ranks again. It has been four years since the Blight ended and the army is still short-handed. The Wardens have the right of conscription to help you in your efforts. I would like to petition the king to grant the same to the army, and would welcome your support.”

“Why do you think I would give my support to this?”

His smile did not falter. “Because we both need fighting men and women, Commander. If the Wardens do not care about sins committed in the past, then why should the army? Do not all citizens deserve a chance to redeem themselves through service to their country? I believe you would be able to make a strong case in the Council. You understand the need for a strong defense.”

“Wardens have the right of conscription because ours is a unique order. A soldier can choose to leave the army, and possibly return to a life of crime. No one leaves the Wardens.”

“Except the king, I suppose,” he said. I looked sharply at him, but his face was still bland, and smiling.

“I will have to think about it,” I said. “Let’s speak later, Captain. I am indisposed just now.”

He inclined his head and let me pass. In truth, he had a valid complaint. The army had a reputation for being a tough slog, especially the Denerim Guard under the hard-nosed new Captain, and I’d heard that recruitment was low. Still, granting them the same right of conscription that the Wardens had seemed wrong. The Wardens were bound, physically, by the magic ritual of the Joining; even if they ceased active service, the taint shared in our blood bound us all to the same ultimate fate from which there was no escape. The army had no such controls. The Wardens asked for an enormous sacrifice in return for freedom. There was no similar pact in the army. Nor should there be. Bad enough that the Wardens demanded what they did.

#

I managed to take a decent stroll around the Royal Palace grounds. In spite of the chill, being outdoors was preferable to being stuck indoors, listening to a series of petitions. Biscuit bounded off happily and rolled in the snow. He was a true Ferelden mabari, that one. When I reentered the palace, a servant notified me that two Banns were waiting for an audience with me, on a matter of high importance. I sighed. They all said that. “I’ll see them in the King’s study,” I said. “I’ll be there shortly.”

The Banns were from West Hills, and only slightly familiar to me. I struggled to remember whether they’d supported Alistair at the Landsmeet, which now seemed so long ago. The older lord began without preamble after a perfunctory greeting. “Just a few weeks ago, a great company of Orlesians marched through my fields. I would have thought the days of letting Orlesians trample Fereldan fields were long over. I demand this outrage be brought to the attention of the king.”

I stifled my sigh. “Those were Grey Wardens, my lord. They came from Montsimmard to garrison for the winter at Vigil’s Keep.”

“Wardens or no, they are still Orlesians. How can we trust them? Can you guarantee that they are not a threat, Commander?”

I gave him my most royal and reassuring smile. “You have my personal assurance that the Orlesian Grey Wardens do not pose a threat to you, or to Ferelden. They are here at the invitation of His Majesty, to aid us. Their presence will help make us more effective in patrolling the area and keep us all safe from bandit attacks and darkspawn stragglers.”

The younger Bann — his son, I assumed — said, “We demand recompense from the Grey Wardens for the damage caused to our fields.”

“You may petition to Seneschal Gareval about that,” I said in as neutral a tone as I could manage. “He will investigate the matter.”

“If he does not, then rest assured the king will be hearing from me again,” the old man said.

“The king is on an important mission,” I said mildly. “But I will be sure to notify him of your concerns when he returns.”

“No need,” the old man huffed. “I will speak to the Chancellor personally. This is a civil matter, after all.” He gave me a dour look. “I fought against the Orlesians at River Dane, your Highness. Just beware that you do not invite a serpent into the nest.”

I nodded. “Thank you for the warning, my lord.” Some people would never forget the occupation, and there was nothing I could say to change their minds.

The two lords bowed and left. I shut the door gently behind them.

I sank into a chair, head pounding again. The last time I’d been in here, I’d been speaking to Alistair. We’d argued. I told him I needed to go to Weisshaupt to study their records on the Calling, and he’d convinced me that I couldn’t leave Ferelden yet. He was right, of course, which made his rebuke sting all the more more. Ferelden was a mess. Vigil’s Keep wasn’t finished, there were still darkspawn about, and many feared that mages would rebel as they had in Kirkwall.

But if not now, then when? I realized I’d clenched my fists and relaxed them with a conscious effort. I picked up the small dragon statuette that he kept on his desk. I’d given it to him, long ago. He’d kept all my gifts, eve the silly ones. I blinked away the incipient tears.  
It used to be that Alistair and I came to agreement on nearly everything. These days, however, more and more issues built walls between us.

After eating a hurried meal, I returned to my chambers where the stack of letters awaited me, as Amethyne had promised. Vigil’s Keep had forwarded reports of darkspawn activity in Gwaren, along with a request for aid. There were few Wardens to spare, but it would have to be done. I wondered if I should send a few of the Orlesian Wardens as a way to demonstrate that they were indeed here to help. Or perhaps that gesture would be seen as an insult to the former Teyrn Loghain’s domain. It made my head ache. I’d decide later.

There was a letter from Fergus, which I was glad to read. He was still mourning the death of his wife and son, but he seemed to be keeping busy with running Highever. He was still a relatively young man, not yet forty. I hoped he would marry again. The Cousland line should not end so ignominiously, through the treachery of Rendon Howe.  
I glanced over several other letters from people I hardly knew, asking for this or that favor, before I came upon an unmarked piece of parchment. It was old and smelled faintly of mildew, as if it had lain in a cellar for many years. The seal was not one I recognized, but the spidery script in the address seemed like one I’d seen before, only I couldn’t quite remember where.

I broke the seal and opened it. It was very short.

> _Cousland, I read your letter with interest. I have some thoughts. Too complicated to explain in writing. Come in person. Hurry. I don’t have much time left._  
>  _— Avernus_

I read it over three more times, hardly daring to hope. When I’d written to him, I hadn’t expected much. If in two hundred years he hadn’t been able to find a way to modify or prevent the Calling, it had seemed unlikely that he would come up with anything useful now. And in truth, part of me had wanted to forget about him entirely, for his past crimes were so horrifying that I hesitated to benefit from the knowledge he’d discovered through torture.

But I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Soldier’s Peak was just a few days’ travel past Vigil’s Keep. I could go check on the Keep and then ride on to see Avernus without anyone in Denerim being the wiser. All in all the journey shouldn’t take more than two weeks, even with the bad weather. I’d be back before Alistair returned.

And I would still be in Ferelden the whole time, as I’d promised the king.

“Amethyne,” I called. “I need to make preparations for a trip.”

She was at my door in a few minutes. “Yes, your Highness. Shall I prepare your dress uniform, or simply your traveling clothes?”

“No Warden insignia,” I decided. “Just find me an old palace guard uniform. This is a bit of an unofficial visit and I want to keep a low profile. Oh, and could you ask General Oghren to meet me this afternoon?”

“Of course, your Highness.”

“Amethyne, this is just between us. I don’t want to bother the Chancellor or anyone else.”

She looked as though she wanted to say something, but only nodded. “Of course.”

I didn’t want word getting out that I was visiting the blood mage traitor at Soldier’s Peak. It might send the wrong impression.

I stood up and opened the window, letting in a blast of frigid air. I breathed deeply. I could taste the salt tang on the wind. North was where the Waking Sea lay, and Alistair's ship rode the waves there even now. Was he on the deck, looking south, thinking about me?

_Be safe, my love. Come home soon. And love me again the way you used to._


	2. On the Road to Vigil's Keep

The next day, I was in the stables saddling my horse when Chancellor Mac Tir found me. She had a disdainful look on her face as if she’d caught a whiff of some particularly unpleasant smell. In other words, her usual expression when speaking with me.

“Good morning, Lady Chancellor,” I said. “What a bracing delight to see you.” Somehow, she’d gotten wind of my plans. I didn’t blame Amethyne. The Chancellor had her own eyes and ears in the palace. I’d made a note to myself before to try to discover who was on her payroll.

“Your Highness.” Only Anora could say my title and make it sound like an insult. Ah, she was special, that one. “May I ask what you think you're doing?”

“Indeed you may. And I will even tell you. I think I am saddling my horse.” I looked at my hands in surprise. “And lo! I am correct! I am indeed saddling my horse. Maker be praised.”

I could practically see the steam coming out of her perfect little ears. Her voice was icier than the frosted ground outside. “Your glibness does you no credit.”

“So I’ve been told,” I said under my breath. “Many times.”

“Your husband’s facetious manner is clearly a terrible influence on yours.” She had taken it upon herself to teach me the finer points of being a royal consort. Why she chose to put herself through this torture, I didn't know and I didn't dare ask. “You are a member of the royal family now. The credibility of the Theirin line is damaged every time you employ a childish joke.”

I sighed. I would never win with her. At least she wasn’t part of the “Theirin line” anymore. Part of the deal that let her out of prison was that she had to revert to her former name, although she was still part of the line of succession to the throne. She’d had to swear an oath to not seek the throne as long as Theirin heirs were alive. “As it happens, Anora, I’m going to visit Vigil’s Keep. I want to check in on some final details of the reconstruction.”

“Indeed? Strange that you have shown no interest in the details of the project until now,” she said with some suspicion. “You were quite content to let Garevel handle everything while you went marching around the Bannorn recruiting impressionable young boys and girls for your precious Order. And now you expect me to believe that you have a sudden pressing need to immerse yourself in the mundane particulars of rebuilding a fortress?”

“Grey Warden business, I’m afraid. I’d tell you more, but then you’d have to drink the Joining Chalice, and I doubt it would agree with you. I’ll be gone two weeks, maybe more.”

“And exactly how many guards are riding with you?”

A huge belch answered that question. Anora looked absolutely disgusted. “I should have known.”

A strong whiff of stale ale preceded Oghren as he staggered into the stables. “By my Ancestors, Chancellor, you’re a tasty sight for a lonely man on a cold winter's morning. If you’re feeling chilly, you should let old Oghren warm you up.”

Anora drew back hastily. “Are you... drunk?”

Oghren let loose another impressive belch and then opened his mouth to say more but I thought it best to cut him off.

“Drunkenness is General Oghren's preferred state. It is integral to his fighting style. Let's get a move on, Ogs.” I turned and whistled into the back of the stable. “Biscuit! Come on, boy!”

The mabari came bounding out of the straw where he’d been taking a nap. He snuffled Oghren and leapt up to give me a kiss on the cheek. He wagged his tail cordially at Anora, but he knew better than to jump on her. Smart boy.

Anora crossed her arms. “A dog and a drunken dwarf are going to keep the Princess Consort safe on the road to Vigil’s Keep? Being a Grey Warden has afflicted your common sense. What if you're ambushed? The Pilgrim's Path is still not safe, in spite of our efforts to calm bandit activity.”

“Bah!” said Oghren. “I’d like to see the sodding nug-wits who’d try to tussle with the Hero of Ferelden. No, really, I’d pay good coin to see that. Heh heh heh.”

“I’m in disguise,” I said cheerfully. “No one will recognize me in this outfit.” I gestured to the guard uniform. Amethyne had done an excellent job of finding one just worn enough to look authentic. “I’m just a grunt on an errand. And besides, what do you care? If I perish on the journey, you’d be free to marry Alistair and become the queen you’ve always wanted to be.” I smiled sweetly at her.

She actually shuddered. “Marry the king? That is too high a price to pay. However, you bring up a good point. Need I remind you of the fragile safety that we are just barely managing to hold together? We face possible threats from Orlais, and a displaced population in dire economic straits that demands an enormous investment of resources. In this climate, the succession of the throne must have top priority.”

“That’s why Alistair made you an heir,” I pointed out. “Against my strong objections, I might add. I still haven’t forgiven you for tossing us aside to save your own skin after we rescued you. So let me go be a Warden for a while, and you can have the run of the palace for the rest of the month. Just don’t pass any important laws until I get back, if you can manage to restrain yourself.”

She raised her chin in her haughtiest manner. “I have only ever wanted what is best for Ferelden. While you and the king run off time and again to play with your precious Wardens, it falls to me to rebuild the kingdom. You neglect your duties to the crown.”

Now she was really getting under my skin. I stepped up very close to her so I could look her straight in the eye. I dropped my voice and adopted the tone my mother used when dealing with upstart Banns whom she disliked. “Do not presume to lecture me about my duty. My family have ruled Highever for eight hundred years, while you — I hate to pull rank, Anora, but your father was a peasant who turned regicide and traitor. As for the Grey Wardens, I have always stood by my oath to them. It is the duty that will not be forsworn.”

I know I can be pretty intimidating when I try. But Anora’s a tough one. She barely flinched. “It is not possible to serve two masters.” Her voice was cold iron. “Your loyalty to the Wardens, while admirable, compromises the safety of Ferelden. And it always will.”

I had to clench my fists to stop myself from grabbing the collar of her cloak and shoving her against the stall doors. “I am bound to the kingdom and my king, always, by love and honor. I challenge you to say the same.”

Anora flicked her eyes away briefly. “If you truly cared for the king and the country as you claim, you would have the decency to step aside and let Alistair take another bride, one who is not tainted by the darkspawn corruption.” She practically spat the words out. “You would ensure that Ferelden have a true Theirin heir.”

“You dare—!“ My nose was an inch from hers. My hands shook with rage as I fought to keep them under control.

“Now, now, ladies,” Oghren broke in. “I’m as eager to see you two wrestle in the muck as any red-blooded dwarf, especially if you took some of that armor off, but time’s a-wasting.”

To her credit, Anora collected herself first, turning away with a toss of her head. “Very well. You know I am unable to stop you from doing this foolish thing. But I will write an official report noting my objections to this scheme.”

I couldn’t trust myself to speak.

“Sod the blighted female,” Oghren muttered to her back as she walked stiffly away. “Our little pike-twirler should never have let her out of prison.”

I took a deep breath. The fury was subsiding now, leaking away slowly. “Well, you know Alistair. He's got a soft spot a mile wide. And we desperately needed help in administration after Arl Eamon retired. Anora’s got a genius for it.”

“Think maybe she’ll get stabby on you?”

That was a very good question. I wanted to say, “of course.” But I checked myself and thought it over seriously. “She’s not that direct. Unlike her father, she won’t go for the obvious coup or blatant assassination attempt. No, she’s more subtle than that. She’ll arrange it so cleverly that it’ll look like she had nothing to do with it.”

“So, you suspect she’s plotting against you?”

This, too, I weighed carefully. “No, I don’t,” I said slowly. It was a question I asked myself often, and I still wasn’t sure I’d answered it to my satisfaction. “Not at the moment, at least. She’ll need to have a rock-solid, legitimate claim before she acts. Which she doesn’t have; nor does she have enough support from potential allies and backers. The banns love Alistair, and so do the people. The Wardens stand behind him, and while the Circle isn’t tremendously thrilled with him, Irving owes us. Anora might be able to drum up support in Gwaren but I can’t think where else she would go.”

“Heh. And you’re pretty popular yourself, boss. You should hear the lads at the barracks talk about you.”

I nodded, acknowledging the somewhat dubious compliment. “All the same, I don’t trust Anora without reservation. She insists she’s acting for Ferelden, but it’s funny how often her interests and the country’s just happen to line up so perfectly, isn’t it? And she shares her father’s distrust for the Wardens, which makes things complicated between us in particular.” I sighed. Anora had made no secret about how deeply she resented the Wardens’ being in Ferelden at all, let alone taking over the Arling of Amaranthine, which she thought a terrible waste of land.

We led our horses out of the stables and into the fresh morning air. Biscuit capered in the snow, completely unbothered by the chill.

The heightened emotion from my confrontation had cooled off almost completely now and I was starting to regret some of the things I’d said to the Chancellor. “You know, all things considered, I feel sorry for her. She’s had a difficult life. First her husband, then her father executed, within a year. For all her faults, she truly loved both men.”

Oghren gave an impressive snort. “You’re getting as soft in the head as the pike-twirler. That piece of treacherous bronto-turd deserved everything she got. She's her father's daughter through and through, and that ain’t a compliment. If you ask me, we should toss her back in prison and throw away the key.”

“But then we wouldn't have the pleasure of her company. Come on, let's get on the road. It's a fine day for riding!”

Oghren blew air out of his lips in an evocative raspberry as he swung into his saddle.

We headed towards the Denerim gates.

Anora’s words resounded in my heart despite my efforts to focus on the beautiful crisp air and the long road unspooling in front of us.

_You would ensure that Ferelden have a true Theirin heir._

I shivered. There was child of Theirin blood already, although Alistair and I had promised never to seek him, and no one else knew about him.

Morrigan’s son. _Alistair’s_ son.

When I’d last seen her, in the Dragonbone Wastes, she’d confirmed it. The boy was alive and well. He would be almost four years old or so now.

I wondered if the child looked like Alistair.

It was stupid to be jealous, and yet I was. Jealous that Morrigan got something I wanted so desperately. Angry with myself that I let it happen.

And yet, perhaps Morrigan was the key to all this. If she could conceive a Grey Warden child, could she help me do the same?

If so, what sort of child would it be, holding the soul of an Old God within?

No fire in Thedas was warm enough to chase the chill that had permeated my bones now.

Whatever her plan, her child was possibly another clue to unraveling the mystery of the Calling. She had told me that he would carry the taint. Would Morrigan’s son call darkspawn, the way the Old Gods did? Or had she figured out a way to disable it? How was the boy connected to the darkspawn, if he was? Would they be able to corrupt him? Maker, were they searching for him too, the way they searched relentlessly for the other Old Gods? Andraste preserve him. The boy didn’t deserve that fate.

I had so many questions for Morrigan. But she had stepped through the Eluvian. She was beyond my reach.

Maker. My head was really hurting.

 

We’d just passed the gates when a youth in a city guard uniform ran up to us. “General Oghren! Are you going to Vigil’s Keep?”

“Yup, that’s where we’re headed,” he said. “Why?”

The boy looked eagerly up at him. “I’d like to be a Grey Warden! I heard you’re recruiting. Can I come with you?”

Oghren glanced at me. I shook my head ever so slightly. The dwarf turned back to the boy. “Now, that’s not a good idea, son. You’ve got duties to perform here.”

“But you’re taking that guard with you, and she serves at the palace,” the boy said, pointing to me. “I’m sure the Captain won’t care. He thinks I’m terrible. He’s always telling me what a waste of breath I am.”

I wasn’t surprised. It had been Anora who had argued for a Captain with a reputation of toughness, to whip the guards back into shape. From my brief encounter with him, I could tell he had a heavy hand with personnel.

“Grey Wardens only recruit the best,” Oghren said. “What makes you think you’ve got the stones to join us?”

The boy looked down, abashed. My heart stung for him. “How old are you, soldier?” I asked.

“I’ve just turned eighteen.”

So young. So eager to give his life. He had no idea what it meant to undertake the Joining. He would be consigning himself to a lifetime of waiting for the Calling. Waiting for death. “Listen, soldier, I wouldn’t be in such a rush if I were you. You have plenty of time. Train. Prepare yourself. Talk to your captain and find out how you can improve. Then come to the Wardens and be tested.”

“But I thought you needed Wardens now. Aren’t you trying to recruit more?”

He was right about that. But I was not so heartless that I would steal the youth of a boy. “Being a Warden is a lifelong commitment. You’re a little young to decide that.”

Now he was defiant. “Age has nothing to do with commitment,” he said. “The Hero of Ferelden was barely older than me when she was recruited. I was here in the city when she and King Alistair stopped the Blight. I was just a kid then, but I knew instantly, then and there, that I wanted to be a Grey Warden. I want to help. I want to fight against evil. I want to do something that matters. Patrolling the streets and hauling pickpockets to jail isn’t what I had in mind when I joined the guard.”

I knew exactly how he felt. “You’re keeping the city safe,” I said. “That matters.”

Shoulders sagging, the boy turned away to go, but Oghren called to him. “What’s your name, son?”

“Ned,” he said. “Ned Ferrin.”

The dwarf nodded, looking every stocky inch the great general. “See you in a year, Ned. Don’t forget. Come to Vigil’s Keep and we’ll see what we can do. Bring me a flask of ale and I’ll put in a good word for you with the Warden-Commander. I happen to know her pretty well.”

Ned’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Thank you, General!” He turned to me. “And thank you, Ser…” He stopped. Stared.

“Good day!” I said and turned my horse away quickly before he could identify me.

“Nice kid,” Ogs said. “Hope he doesn’t die.”

“Hey, did you notice? My disguise totally works.”

Ogs scoffed. “Only because everyone is dazzled by my magnificence. I draw their eyes. Can’t help it. It’s pure animal magnetism. Heh heh heh.”

Biscuit barked with, I thought, a note of skepticism.

 

It was a stunningly clear winter’s day, but I was feeling broody. The encounter with Ned reminded me of the cost of building up the ranks of our order by convincing good men and women to join. The bad dreams reminded me all too bitterly of the price of the Joining, and my pretty phrases about duty and sacrifice turned to ash in my mouth.

A week’s worth of snow lay in drifts and clumps along the road, slowing us down. There weren’t enough soldiers or workers to keep the roads clear, and several times we had to dismount and struggled alongside our horses through the snow. Ogs slipped and fell, and although he claimed he was fine, I could tell that it hurt his back to ride. To make things worse, the short daylight hours meant that by the time it got too dark to go on we were still miles from shelter.

“I suppose we’re going to have to make camp.” I sighed. Palace living had made me soft. Sleeping in a tent outside — especially in winter — was not one of the things I missed about those early traveling days.

Ogs, however, was surprisingly cheerful. Perhaps he was just glad not to be n a horse, but he happily shared his flask and built the fire and ate our hard biscuit with no complaint. I volunteered to take the first watch, and he trundled off to his tent his snores soon emanated.

Biscuit cuddled next to me as I poked at the fire, letting me enjoy his solid warmth, even if he smelled faintly of wet dog. He wasn’t exactly a substitute for Alistair, but he was a great comfort.

The next day, more snow started falling. By evening, it had turned into sleet. The horses picked their way on the road carefully to avoid slipping.

“Another reason the surface is a blighted disaster,” said Oghren, pulling up his hood. “All this cold white crap falling from the sky. Bah! Give me the Deep Roads any day. At least they’re clear of snow.” He blew on his hands. “At this rate we’ll be lucky if we reach Vigil’s Keep by springtime.”

I shuddered. I could still feel the faint echo of my nightmare from the night before, pressing against my brain. I knew that when Wardens started feeling the Calling, it was only a matter of time before they began to hear it during waking hours as well as at night. Some Wardens could withstand it for years, while some took themselves to the Deep Roads at the first sign of the voices.

The thought of going again into the Deep Roads made me feel nauseous and I had to drink in big gulps of frigid air for a few minutes until the disorientation passed.

I was so tired I didn’t hear the muffled hoofbeats until the figure was almost upon us. It was hard to make out details through the shadows and thickening snow. I instinctively loosened my sword and pulled my horse off to the side, with an eye on Biscuit. The dog seemed alert, but he didn’t signal danger. That was a good sign. Still, I’d learned not to take any chances.

As the rider approached, Biscuit barked once, in greeting. I saw that the horseman was dressed in the hood and leathers of a Warden Scout. I relaxed. Vigil’s Keep was watching these roads, then. That was reassuring. I made a mental note to commend Garevel for his watchfulness.

The scout pulled up his horse and pushed back his hood, and I instantly recognized that scowl.

Oghren waved a hand cheerfully. “Tickle my knickers, if it isn’t Ser Broods-a-lot himself. How have you been, lad?”

I smiled and held up a hand. “Well-met, Senior Warden Howe.”

Nate spared us an almost-smile. He and I had an uneasy relationship but over the years it had settled into a familiar pattern of rivalry that was mostly on the friendly side. It was still difficult, sometimes, to look at him and not remember the atrocious crimes of his father. And I’m sure when he looked at me, he inevitably saw his father’s executioner.

It was complicated.

“Warden-Commander, I am glad I caught you. I heard you were headed this way.”

“Maker’s breath, how did you know that?”

“Denerim sent word, of course.”

“My departure was supposed to be secret. Well secret-ish. Can everyone see through my disguise?”

Nate nodded at Biscuit. “Not many low-ranking palace guards are accompanied by a purebred mabari war hound. Next time, you might consider dressing the dog as something. Perhaps a pony.”

Biscuit barked happily.

“Was that a joke, Nathaniel Howe? Maker preserve us, have you found a sense of humor at last?”

He grimaced, but I thought he was secretly pleased. “Chancellor Mac Tir requested that I escort you safely to Vigil’s Keep.”

“Anora? But how did she send word so quickly? Oh, Denerim sent a raven, I suppose. Well, I’m flattered, I think, that she’s actually worried about me. Or did she ask you to send her progress reports on me?”

He flushed. “I am no spy. She merely felt your protection was inadequate.”

“Hey!” said Ogs. “What am I, chopped nug-liver?”

Nate turned to the dwarf. “Greetings, General Oghren. Your fighting prowess is legendary. So is your ability to get dead drunk. Perhaps another pair of eyes on watch is not a terrible idea.”

“Ha! You have a point there, son,” said Ogs.

I said, “You’re welcome to ride with us, Nate, as long as you promise to talk only about cheerful things. It’s too cold to talk about anything else.”

“I cannot make such a promise,” he said, “but I could ride out of earshot, if you prefer, and thus keep my non-cheerful thoughts to myself.”

Ogs chuckled. “By my Ancestors, that was another joke. The lad’s growing a funny bone. Heh. Get it? Growing a bone? I’m talking about the one in your pants.”

“Ugh,” said Nathaniel as Oghren continued to heartily enjoy his joke.

On the second night, we stopped at a steading and were allowed to sleep in the barn with the sheep, which was a bit crowded but at least warm and dry. Ogs rolled into his corner and started snoring almost immediately. I envied his ability to fall asleep. Nate muttered something about keeping watch and stalked off towards the entrance of the structure, and Biscuit and

I bedded down in a fragrant pile of fresh, clean hay.  
It seemed like only seconds later that I woke to Nate shaking my shoulder rather too vigorously for comfort. Biscuit lay pressed against my side, snuffling anxiously at my face. Howe’s face was pale and his brows drawn down.

“You are ill,” he said. “You should have told me.” His voice was harsh. “We must get you to a healer right away.”

I gasped for air. My shirt stuck to my back but I felt icy and my limbs were trembling. “No, not ill.”

“You were shaking and moaning. You look terrible.”

“Oh, thank you.” I hadn’t realized it was that bad. I drew another steadying breath and wiped my clammy face. “It was just a bad dream. Nothing to worry about.”

His glowering got darker, if that were possible. “What sort of dream? There is no Blight. The voices of darkspawn are nearly unnoticeable at this range.”

I glanced over at the corner where Oghren was still snoring peacefully. “Could you keep it quiet? I don’t want to wake Ogs.”

His eyes never left my face. “Are you are hearing the Calling? Already? That cannot be.”

I tried to smile but coughed instead. “I don’t believe it, either. I’m too pretty to die.”

He merely looked at me with the same shocked, grave expression. “Does the king know?”

It was annoying how Nate seemed able to see through me. There was no point in denying it, now. “It, ah, hasn’t really come up.”

There was a pause, and Nate rocked back on his heels. “If I were you, I would not tell him, either,” Nate said savagely. “The Deep Roads are a burden to be borne alone. No lover should be forced to watch his beloved die.”

His passion surprised me. He sounded as though he had thought about it. Did he have a lover? Someone among the Wardens, perhaps?

“So you would go alone to the Deep Roads to meet your fate?”

“I would do my best to spare those I love the pain of knowing I go to meet my death.”

 _I don’t want to die alone_ , my heart cried. I said, “Nate, don’t tell anyone. Please.”

He nodded, and I thought I saw a flash of sympathy in his deep grey eyes. “For what it’s worth, Elissa, I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I always welcome feedback. :) Anora is such a fun character I'm thinking of writing up a short standalone story for her... what do you think?


	3. Vigil's Keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If you have any specific suggestions about formatting, how I can better tag content, technical stuff - please don't hesitate to let me know, because I'm still new to this platform and figuring out how it all works.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone! :)

We finally arrived in Vigil's Keep, where Ogs and I immediately went to the kitchens to sit by the fire and see if there was any hot soup to be had. Nate kindly saw to our horses.

After we managed to warm up a bit, Ogs decided to inspect the brewery and cellars while I took a tour of the fortress with Seneschal Garevel. I was proud to note that the reconstruction of the keep was nearly complete. The walls had been entirely rebuilt according to Voldrik's exacting specifications, even stronger and taller than before. The barracks had been expanded in hopeful anticipation of more Wardens, and there were new trebuchets and other defensive apparati.

"And this is our new rookery," said the Seneschal. "Just completed. We have sent to Montsimmard for a spymaster to give our Wardens the training to work with ravens. The capacity will vastly improve our ability to communicate across Ferelden, and even into Orlais."

"Impressive," I said. "You've outdone yourself, Seneschal."

"You flatter me, Commander. I am only following your example."

I was starting to feel the onset of a headache and struggled to concentrate on what Garevel was saying. As we walked back to the main keep, I asked, "How many Wardens do we have visiting from Orlais?"

"There is a complement of twelve, Warden-Commander."

"That's wonderful. How many new recruits do we have?"

"At the moment, we have four that are ready to take the Joining. We were hoping you would be able to lead the ceremony."

"Of course." My mouth spoke out of duty and habit. Inwardly, I shuddered. The Joining was a brutal and cruel undertaking.

That evening, all of us had dinner in the great hall. In addition to the twelve soldiers from Orlais, and the four new recruits, there were twenty-three full Wardens here including Nate, Oghren, and myself. A few were out scouting, and a group of six had been dispatched to investigate an incident in the Korcari Wilds. Even so, there were not nearly enough, even after four years of recruitment. If there was another Blight soon, we would be decimated.

Ogs looked around the hall. "Sparklefingers should be here," he growled. "Never figured him for a coward."

"He's not," I said. "I'm sure Anders is doing good work, somewhere." But I could understand the sentiment. I keenly felt the absence of the mage whom I'd once considered a companion.

"He should have told us where he was going," Ogs said.

"I wish I knew where he was, too."

"Shoulda known a mage would turn deserter."

I let it go. Ogs had taken the mage's disappearance personally. And to be honest, I'd felt betrayed, too. The oath to serve the Grey Wardens was not to be lightly tossed aside. Nor was friendship.

After dinner, we gathered for the Joining. It was a solemn affair. As Warden-Commander, I was expected to lead the ritual, but I asked Nate to do it this time. I didn't have the stomach for it. He took one look at my face and agreed.

All the other Wardens formed a circle around the great brazier at one end of the hall. Nathaniel, in his dress armor, held the chalice. The Warden mages from Orlais stood right behind him. The preparing of the chalice was a closely held secret. Even as their commander, I knew very little about it and understood even less. The working of magic was nearly impossible for non-mages to fathom.

The four recruits stood before him: a Dalish hunter, a human mage, and two human warriors. All looked so young, so determined.

Maker. I couldn't look.

Nate said the words and offered the cup to the elf. She drank, then fell to the ground. Oghren checked her. "This little blighter is tougher than she looks," he said admiringly. "She'll live."

Next, the human mage. He didn't survive.

Then the warriors. Only one made it.

One out of two usually died at the Joining. This Joining was no better or worse than any other, but the incident fired a fury in my heart. Too many were dying for the Grey Warden before they even got a chance to fight. I turned my face away. Nausea surged in my stomach and my head rang with pain.

The other Wardens helped take the survivors to their beds, where a healer would help ease their waking, while others cleared the bodies.

"What were their names, Garevel? The names of those who died."

It was Nathaniel who answered me. "The mage was called Heron, and the swordsman was Ser Orlis Locke, of Gwaren. They both arrived last week."

"They were too young to die," I said.

Garavel said, "We will notify their families that they died with honor."

"They died for nothing," I said, more bitterly than I intended. "There is no honor in that."

"That is the sacrifice," said Nate. "Not only theirs, but ours, for we must consign them to their fate."

It was monstrous, I thought, but I didn't say it out loud. Not in front of the leaders I trusted to carry out the business of the Grey Wardens, no matter how horrifying it was.

There was drinking after that, not exactly in celebration, but in commemoration, perhaps. I wasn't feeling very festive but neither was I eager to go to bed and fall into the dark dreams again, so I found a spot near Ogs where we could enjoy some ale.

"This one here's a special recipe I've been working on," Ogs said proudly. "Tell me what you taste."

"I warn you, I don't have the palate that Wynne has." I sipped experimentally. "Maker, that's strong."

"What do you taste?"

"Blackberries… and … tar?"

He beamed. "Not bad for a poncy little human."

A shout from a neighboring table disturbed our peace. "You _would_ say that, you blasted Orlesian!"

A young Fereldan Warden stood, practically bristling with rage, his hand on his hilt, staring at a seated man. Two others stood up to flank him.

The man in the chair had a luxurious mustache and looked like a former Chevalier. I wondered what a nobleman was doing in the Warden ranks. They did not often choose to follow a life of such deprivation.

"Apologies," he drawled in a cultured Orlesian-accented voice that didn't sound sorry at all. "I meant no offense."

"Andraste's tits, of course you did," spat the Fereldan.

Ogs leaned back, sipping at his ale. "Ooh, a fight. My money's on the mustache. Always bet on the mustache."

My hands were shaking from exhaustion, but if I didn't do something, I feared this situation would quickly grow ugly. I forced myself to stand, then I saw with relief that Nate was already approaching the group.

"Is there a problem here, Wardens?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

The Orlesian reached for his goblet of wine casually. "Not at all, Senior Warden. We merely have a disagreement. It is amicably settled, I'm sure."

Nate turned to the Fereldan man. "Stand down, Calden. We're all Wardens here."

"Yes, sir." Calden's fists clenched. Nate stood still. There was a moment of tension when something unseen passed between the two men, and then Calden abruptly relaxed, turning away. He and his friends moved off to another table, leaving the Orlesian alone.

Nate saw us and came over, taking a seat with a weary sigh.

"Does this happen often?" I asked.

"I'm afraid so. It is only to be expected. Many of these Fereldans come from soldiering families whose fathers and grandfathers fought against the Orlesians. And some of these Orlesians act as if they still own Ferelden. Tensions are running high."

"They're all spoiling for a fight," said Oghren. "We should open up that passage to the Deep Roads, let 'em take their anger out on some darkspawn. Nothing like smashing some hurlock heads to make you feel as fuzzy as a basket of kittens."

"You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together." I smiled into my ale, indulging in that memory. It was what Alistair had said to me when we first met. I'd called him a very strange man, but even then, in that first moment, I'd felt that spark of sympathy and attraction, a curiosity to know more about the man who made jokes at the end of the world. Alistair was like a candle flame in the dark, cheerfully and stubbornly blazing in the face of despair. He'd toss a sarcastic comment into the mouth of the abyss. It was an unflagging strength I'd come to rely on.

_Would I ever see him again? What if the Calling took me before he returned? What if he died during the unrest in Kirkwall?_

I swallowed. The ale had lost its flavor.

Ogs spied someone at the bar and abruptly got to his feet. "Ooh, there's the little scrumptious raspberry I was waiting for."

Following his gaze, I spied a pretty Warden scout settling down with her drink a few tables away. "Ogs! What about Felsi?"

"Felsi and I have what you might call a mutually beneficial understanding."

I shook my head. "Whatever works, I guess."

"Don't wait up," Ogs said with a wink.

"The Joining tonight affected you deeply," Nate said, after Oghren had walked off. "I saw your face."

My gut wrenched at the memory. Two young men lay dead tonight in Vigil's Keep because of the cursed ritual. "It's not fair that good people die, Nate. We have to do better."

"We are doing the best we can. A the last Joining, all three of the recruits survived. We are getting better, in general, at predicting who can withstand the trial. We will continue to refine our testing."

"Not good enough. We're losing brave people who could have fought for us, for Ferelden, for a noble cause. No matter how good our testing is, we will always lose some to the Joining. And how does that help us, or Ferelden? Even if these candidates aren't able to take on the taint, they could serve in other ways. The Fereldan army is still desperate for more soldiers, and we always need city guards and border guards throughout the country."

We heard Oghren's loud guffaw and the musical peal of feminine laughter. I turned to see Ogs chatting up the girl, who appeared to be enjoying the general's ribald sense of humor more than I would have thought possible.

"Well, how do you like that," I said. "His jokes _do_ work on some women. Love is a funny thing."

Nate's face was hidden from me as he turned to his drink. "I wouldn't know."

###

I threw myself on the bed. Exhaustion pulled my limbs deep into the mattress, but dread kept me awake. I didn't want to sleep. I couldn't suffer to dream. Not again.

Was the voice reaching me through the Fade? Did that mean that whatever spoke to me existed there?

It felt as heavy as the archdemon's voice had, but not quite the same.

What if it wasn't the Calling? What if a demon was trying to reach me through the Fade? Was I about to be possessed, like a mage? Or was this early warning that another Old God had awakened, and would start a new Blight?

My head pounded.

A knock roused me, and Biscuit growled. "Go away," I said.

Nathaniel's voice sounded uncharacteristically hesitant. "I do not wish to disturb you. But I thought you might like to talk."

That was considerate of him. I didn't want to talk, but maybe he could help me stay awake. "All right, you might as well come in."

He glanced around the small room and decided to settled on the floor which was at least covered by a threadbare rug. "I brought you some water."

"Thank you. But what I really need is a potion that makes you feel as though you'd gotten a good night's rest even when you've stayed up."

"I am sorry. They were all out of that in the kitchens."

I couldn't help it, I laughed out loud. Nathaniel trying to be funny was so _funny_. And endearing, too.

A flicker of humor crossed his face and then his face settled back into its familiar sober cast. "How are the dreams?"

"They're getting worse." I grimaced. "I don't want to go to sleep. Nate, don't tell Ogs about this. Don't tell anyone. I don't want some rumor going around that I'm being haunted by darkspawn in my dreams. I can't risk scaring the soldiers. Things are uncertain enough as it is."

He nodded. "I swear I will not, unless your life is threatened."

"Oh, well, that's fair enough, I suppose."

"The sacrifice of the Joining weighs more heavily on you now." His voice was quiet and grave. "Is it because of the nightmares?"

I couldn't quite meet his eyes. I looked down at Biscuit and stroked his head, taking comfort in the dog's warmth. "There was a boy, Nate, at the Denerim city gates. He wanted to join the Wardens so badly. He'd seen the battle against the darkspawn. He said… he told me he wanted to do something that matters. But dying before you even get to be a Grey Warden — how does that matter? It's such a waste." I put my head in my hands. "A meaningless waste."

"It is unfortunate. But what can we do? The ritual has been with us since the time the Grey Wardens began."

"But maybe it doesn't always have to be this way."

"What do you mean?" When I didn't answer, he said slowly, "You seek a way to cleanse the taint."

There was no point in pretending otherwise. "If it's possible."

"But if you cleanse the corruption, you would not be a Grey Warden any longer."

That gave me pause. I hadn't actually thought that far ahead. I'd been so focused on quieting the voice in my dreams. "I suppose that's true, if I undo the Joining. But perhaps the Calling can be avoided, or slowed, and still let me remain a Warden."

"That sounds like blood magic," said Nate fiercely. "Would you go so far?"

"Of course not," I said quickly, although there was a seed of doubt in my heart. How far would I go to steal more years for me and Alistair?

I'd already agreed to Morrigan's Dark Ritual. How was that any better than blood magic?

"But you would try to cleanse the taint?"

"If that was an option, yes, I would consider it."

"You are the Warden-Commander." The fury was suppressed but very much present in his voice. "You would turn your back on your duty?"

Duty, again. It seemed I could not escape the word. "I could continue to serve the order with the tasks I'm working on now," I said. "Rebuilding Vigil's Keep, finding recruits, hunting darkspawn stragglers."

"The First Warden would never allow that and you know it. He would remove you from your post, or require you to take the Joining again. The desertion of a well-respected Warden like Anders was bad enough for morale. How would the new Wardens feel if their own leader left them?"

"We don't know that Anders deserted."

"He disappeared without notice and without orders. I don't know what _you_ call it, but I call that desertion. Anyway, that is not my point. If you betray the Grey Wardens, you would undo in one moment all the years of work in building back the glory and honor of the order."

"That's not true. I'm not that important, Nate. I'm just one person. There's you and Oghren and all the others. The Blight is over, and I'll be dead before the next one comes. The order doesn't need me, not anymore."

"How can you say that?" He sprang to his feet and started pacing the small room. " _Just_ one person? Are you truly so naive? You are the hero of Ferelden, the Princess-Consort, the Arlessa of Amaranthine, and the Commander of the Grey in Ferelden. Never have those titles been combined in a single individual before. You bear an immense responsibility to the people, the country, and the world."

"But more than that," he continued through gritted teeth, "if you can bear the thought, you are our leader. _My_ leader. You recruited me when no one else would. When I was a traitor and a criminal, you believed in me. I tried to kill you, and you forgave me. You gave me direction and purpose when I was lost. And you have done the same for many others. You have taught the Wardens a new path. If the Wardens are to survive, they need you and the legacy you will impart upon us."

 _It wasn't me, it was Duncan_ , I thought. _Everything I am now I owe to him_. It was Duncan who had saved me, at the moment when all seemed lost. In the short time I'd had with him, he'd taught me what being a Warden meant. His strength and compassion were my inspiration. Going on without him had been the hardest thing I'd ever done. I wouldn't have survived if it wasn't for Alistair.

But I was not Duncan. I didn't deserve the comparison.

I was tired, so tired. I lay back on the bed. "I am not the leader you believe, Nathaniel. Do you know what I have done? I've already betrayed my vow to the Wardens."

The words slipped out of me, but once they were there, I was glad. They hung in the air for a moment while Nate, paused stock-still, absorbed them.

"What do you mean?" His pale grey eyes were lit like veilfire.

I'd promised to keep this secret, for it wasn't mine to tell; but I was so tired of carrying the burden, so tired of feeling it eating away my soul. So tired of being afraid to speak of it.

"Did anyone tell you the reason we do the Joining, the reason we exist? Why only a Grey Warden can slay an archdemon?"

"No," he said quietly. "The Blight was over when I joined. There was no archdemon, and we did not speak of the details."

"It is a closely-held piece of knowledge, because it scares potential recruits, I suppose. Anyway, you know that the archdemon is hard to slay because its soul can move into nearby darkspawn and survive."

"Yes."

"But if a Grey Warden is there, delivering the killing blow, the archdemon's soul will attempt to possess the Warden and die, because the Warden already has a soul. This, however, kills the Warden."

"'In death, sacrifice,'" he said slowly. "But you and Alistair still live. Was it not you who killed Urthemiel?"

"Oh, I killed him. My hand struck the killing blow. But his soul went elsewhere."

He hardly breathed. "Where?"

"I made a bargain with someone. A witch. She took the archdemon's soul for her own purposes. I allowed her to perform a magic ritual in order to make it happen."

His eyes pierced me unrelentingly. "And the king? Does he know?"

I was hoping to leave Alistair out of it, but I was too tired to try to deflect the question. "Yes. He didn't want to do it, but I convinced him it was for the best."

I realized now what I was feeling, because Nate's accusing glare clarified it for me: shame.

"I have no doubt that you were very persuasive," he said drily.

 _I shouldn't have done it_ , I wanted to say. It made Alistair despise me, a little. At least, I suspect it did. The fact that we'd bent the rules, defied the Grey Warden fate, had driven a wedge between us. The fact that I'd asked him to sleep with Morrigan, as if his body were something to use, something to expedite the arrival of a child we would never know. I had wronged him. He would never have agreed to such a thing if I hadn't talked him into it. His sense of honor would not have allowed it. He'd compromised himself — for me.

Nathaniel wouldn't avert his gaze. His eyes pinned me down. "Why did you do this?"

"Because I didn't want Alistair to die! And because _I_ don't want to die." I sat up and glared at Nathaniel. "I'm selfish, Nate. A selfish coward. When my father lay bleeding on the ground, I should have stayed as my mother did, stayed and defended him to my last breath. That was my _duty_. That was the path of _honor_. I owed my parents that — I owed the people of Highever that. But I didn't!" I couldn't look at Nate anymore. I turned away and slammed my fist into the pillow. Biscuit whimpered. "I didn't. I chose life. I chose to go with Duncan. And then I chose to flout the Grey Warden's tradition of sacrifice with a secret, forbidden ritual so I could save my life and Alistair's. Don't you see?" I covered my face with my hands. "I've cheated death. Not just once, but twice. I told you, I am no fit leader. The Wardens deserve better."

He said nothing. I could hear his footsteps pacing back and forth again. Eventually he said, "Sleep, if you can. I shall leave you in peace. I am sorry."

He shut the door behind him.

I blew out the candle. _Alistair, what have I done? What did I ask you to do? Please forgive me._

But I knew it was too late for forgiveness.

The nightmares screamed during the night.

* * *


	4. Soldier's Keep

The voice sang in my head, drowning out my thoughts, even my emotions. My entire world was consumed by the voice. The voice was all-devouring, horrifying but alluring. It was a vortex, and I was falling into it.

It rang like a thousand bells and this time, for the first time, I thought I heard the shimmer of distinct words layered under the clanging.

_I know what you want._

I tried to scream but no sound came out. My throat was raw and dry, a column of fire.

The voice beat at me, relentlessly. _I know what you want._

An eye, golden and malevolent and all-seeing. I felt its heat on my skin. Scorched.

_I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT WHAT YOU WANT WHAT YOU WANT WHAT YOU WANT._

###

I started awake, heart jumping out of my chest. Biscuit whuffed softly and licked my hand. I'd fallen on the floor in my sleep and I lay next to the mabari, twisted up in the sheets. I threw my arms around the giant dog and stayed awake until the grey dawn, fighting against the echo of the voice reverberating in my skull.

It was snowing again when we set out. Ogs was not happy. The road to Soldier's Peak was not long, but the conditions made travel very unpleasant. New snow fell every other day. "You sure picked the perfect season for a tour of Ferelden," he groused.

"You should put on your cloak, Ogs."

"I'm not _cold_. I just can't move through this sodding white crap. I don't know how you cloudheads do it." He took another swig of his flask. "Luckily I brewed up something special at Vigil's Keep for the road. I call it the Gut-warmer."

"More like the Gut-destroyer. I can smell it from here," said Nate. "It's foul."

"It sure is," said Ogs proudly. "Want some?"

"I'd rather take the Joining Chalice again."

The dwarf chuckled appreciatively as if that were a great compliment.

We managed to find small hamlets and villages to stay in along the North Road, because the weather was getting too bad to camp. I wore my palace guard uniform once more, doing my best not to draw attention. I told myself it was for safety, because Anora was correct that the Princess-Consort should not risk needless danger; but the truth was, I welcomed the anonymity. I was tired of being recognized, of plastering on a fake heroic smile and pretending that everything was wonderful. As a lowly guard, I could slip in, keep my head down, and if anyone remarked that my hands shook or my voice seemed to quaver, they didn't care.

While we may have found shelter from the weather, I didn't know how to protect myself from the dreams. They were steadily getting worse. The stress of traveling seemed to trigger them, and they were far more vivid than before. Now I found myself waking up several times a night, shaking and sweating, icy-cold and hot at the same time. During the day I suffered sudden, sharp headaches that would almost knock me off my horse. I began to experience spells of dizziness. I considered asking Nate to tie me to my horse. Even Ogs had started to notice something amiss; I told him I was just coming down with a bad cold.

He clearly didn't believe me, but thank the Maker, he didn't press the issue.

When I bathed at night, when we were lucky enough to find an inn that sported such facilities, I checked my whole body carefully for signs of corruption: any odd bruises that wouldn't go away, mottled skin, patches that felt scaly. I found nothing.

But the dreams kept on, getting louder with each passing night.

Within a day or so from our destination, we stopped at a hunting lodge of Bann Loren's for the night.

The Bann happened to be present and greeted us graciously. "It is my pleasure to aid the Grey Wardens," he said, bending over my hand to kiss it as if I were a fancy lady and not a tired soldier dressed in a stained uniform. He nodded to Oghren and scratched Biscuit behind the ears, but did not spare Nate a single glance. Loren's wife had been a close friend of my mother's, and before the war, he had often hinted that I should marry his son. Dairren was dead now, along with the Bann's beloved wife, murdered by Rendon Howe's men in the same attack that killed my parents and Amethyne's mother. Loren would not soon forget that. If ever.

The Bann had no family left. The civil war had aged him before his time. His face was pale and he seemed withdrawn, only conversing from politeness, and care had worn deep creases in his face.

At dinner, he spoke absent-mindedly of his favorite sport, boar hunting. "It is best done in winter," he said, "and on foot. Face to face with the wild boar. It is like facing your own death. You should come with us tomorrow, your Highness. There is nothing like it, I assure you."

I struggled to attend to his words. The lights seemed so bright and the room was too cold, so cold I had to sit on my hands to stop them from shivering. "Thank you, but we must press on in the morning, I'm afraid. How are your people faring this winter?"

"Thanks to the Wardens, we've had very little trouble on the roads. Trade flows freely and my people are able to conduct their business." He hesitated and looked down at his trencher.

"What is it, Bann Loren? Out with it. I've known you all my life, and I value that you speak your mind."

"There is the matter of the Orlesians, your Highness."

"What matter?"

"There are rumors that Orlesians have been sighted in the Frostbacks and along the Coast. My soldiers are afraid of another invasion."

"Were these sightings documented? Reports sent?"

"To be honest, your Highness, I dismissed most of this talk as overblown. But yesterday one of my tradespeople passed here on his way from Amaranthine, bearing news that an Orlesian spy who had been arrested had escaped. Now my men are on edge. They wonder if there is a conspiracy afoot, and where there's one Orlesian spy, there may be others."

Utterly ridiculous. These sorts of unfounded rumors sprang up all the time. People needed a scapegoat in these dark times. But it would not do to be seen as trivializing the Banns' concerns. I kept my face neutral. "That is curious. Once I arrive at Soldier's Peak, I will send to Constable Aiden at Amaranthine to find out the details. But rest assured, my lord, there is no Orlesian invasion."

He nodded, but his eyes were slightly clouded over. "Aye. I know that. And yet, my men say there are Orlesians in the heart of Ferelden, at Vigil's Keep. And if there is an invasion, there is doubt that the Wardens would protect us, since their only care is the darkspawn." He gave me a careful glance. "I told them that was nonsense, of course. You are the Princess-Consort as well as the Commander of the Grey. You would not turn your back on your own people."

My head was splitting. "Of course I won't. There is no invasion," I said firmly. "Tell your men that. And I'll get to the bottom of this business at Amaranthine."

But first, I had to press on the Soldier's Peak.

Access to Soldier's Peak was controlled by an elaborate maze built by ancient Grey Wardens when they'd established the fort as an outpost. I knew the way because I'd memorized it, but I recalled how confusing the paths had been the first time we'd traversed the deep cliffs. Levi Dryden had led us, guided by a vision sent by the blood mage Avernus. Was that like a Calling? Was that how the mage had managed to contact Dryden in his dreams, through the blood that linked Levi to his ancestress Sophia?

The more I considered the problem of the Calling, it seemed, the more questions I had.

We arrived in Soldier's Peak in time for a late lunch, which made Ogs very happy. He immediately went off to the kitchens to see about organizing meals and drinks.

As for me, I was not in no mood to eat. Every day on the journey seemed to drain the life out of me. During the Blight, Alistair had helped me learn how to block some of it out, and I'd been trying those techniques now. The Blight was different, however. I'd heard a multitude of voices, a chorus, and one over-arching sound of the archdemon, leading them. It was terrible and also strangely beautiful.

This time, there was a single voice, spearing straight into my brain like a beacon's light. My mental blocks were crumbling against it.

As we rode into the courtyard in front of the main keep, Levi Dryden came up to greet us. "Good day, Warden-Commander. You look like you haven't slept in days! Did you have any trouble on the roads?"

 _Oh, just some archdemon shouting in my head._ "No, nothing. How are you, Levi?" I slid off my horse and almost stumbled.

Levi didn't seem to notice — or he ignored it. "We're very well, thank you. My wife and I have another little one on the way, and enough Wardens and other travelers pass through here to keep a decent trade going."

I handed the reins off to a stableboy. It was good to see Soldier's Peak bustling with activity again. Nearly one hundred people lived here now. "Good. I'm glad to hear it. I'll join the others in the main hall for a bite to eat soon, and we should debrief properly, but first I need to talk to Avernus. How is he?"

Levi looked away with a barely repressed shudder. "Hard to say, Warden-Commander. We haven't seen him in months, but we keep delivering food to his tower so he must be still alive. He keeps himself to himself."

"I see." I didn't imagine Avernus was ever very sociable, but this behavior of complete isolation was new to me. I wondered what he was working on. I feared to know it.

Levi moved off to supervise our accommodations and Nate spared me a wary look. "You're going to go see the blood mage?"

"Yes. I need to talk to him. Alone, Nate."

He left me to it without protest.

I made my way through the keep to the old mage's tower, across the exposed battlements that separated the structure from the main keep. The wind had kicked up and now howled around my ears, making me wish I'd kept my cloak on. The door was locked. I thought about picking it but decided to knock instead. It was more polite, after all.

His thin, reedy voice answered with a familiar note of petulance. "How many times must I ask not to be disturbed? I am not hungry. Leave me to work."

"Avernus, it's me. The Warden-Commander. Open the door."

"Cousland?" I heard faint footsteps, and the door creaked open a crack. "Is it you?"

"Yes," I said. "Who else? What's gotten into you?"

"You're here." His eyes narrowed. "Are you alone?"

"It's cold out here. Let me in. Do I have to command it?"

"No," he said shortly, and let me in.

I immediately realized why he'd been so secretive. I was not prepared for how quickly he'd aged since I'd seen him last, nor for how deeply the corruption had set in. It was shocking. When I'd first met him, he had looked about what you'd expect a two-hundred-year-old man kept alive by blood magic would look, but now he resembled a shambling undead corpse. His skin was so thin it was nearly transparent, stretched over the bones of his skull like a parchment worn down by scraping, and mottled around his brow and mouth with the dark spots of the taint. His eyes had sunk deep into their sockets and glittered out at me like fetid pools in a cavern. A wisp of wind could have blown him over. He was bent over and seemed to move with difficulty and great pain.

His workshop, too, was a mess. Papers and books everywhere, discarded plates and mugs stacked by the door, and everything covered in a fine layer of dust. Cobwebs spanned every corner. I'm pretty sure I saw a fat rat scuttle lazily under a chair.

"What's going on?" I said, surveying the scene. "Avernus, are you all right? Do you need healing?"

"A healer could not cure what is wrong with me," was his indifferent reply. He shifted his body to his desk and sat himself gingerly in front of a stack of papers. "I'm very busy, as you see. Serving the Wardens and redeeming my crimes as you ordered. I have little time for visitors."

His head bent over a scroll that he was transcribing, taking up the quill once more to continue whatever he'd been doing. His bony wrist was mottled with dark spots. How much longer did he have?

"It's so dark in here." I lit another lamp, which hardly did anything to penetrate the gloom. "You said you found out something I would want to know."

"Yes." He put down his quill and looked up at me. His eyes, at least, although eerie grey, were still sharp as ever. He steepled his fingers. "You wish to stop the Calling."

"Just tell me, Avernus."

"How badly do you want to do this, Commander?"

That sent a chill through me that had nothing to do with the damp conditions in the room. I said carefully, "What are the options?"

He sat back and a distant look misted over his eyes. "The Calling is the voice of the Old Gods. When Wardens experience it, we are hearing what the darkspawn hear. It is a sign that we are becoming more like them." Suddenly his eyes snapped back to mine, boring into my skull. "Are you feeling it, Cousland? Do you hear the voices of the Old Gods? Do they visit you in your dreams?"

My throat suddenly closed up. "I'm not certain. I have… dreams. I hear a voice that reminds me of the archdemon's. Sometimes I can make out words."

"Nothing when you are awake?"

I shook my head. "Nothing distinct. Echoes. Memories. Headaches." I grimaced. I had one now, pounding at my temples like a dwarven chisel.

"Most curious," he murmured. "You have been a Warden for less than five years, yes? While it sets in differently for all of us, I have never heard of a Warden experiencing it this early."

I was starting to lose my patience. "What is it that you wanted to tell me, Avernus?"

"I know how to slow the onset of the Calling. Delay it. That is how I have managed to survive. I have lived with the Calling for one hundred and fifty years," he said drily.

I gasped. "How do you stand it?" I'd only heard a voice for a fortnight, and I was afraid I was losing my mind.

He shrugged. "Even the worst horrors can become familiar enough to lose their sting."

"But you can't stop the voice?" Life wouldn't be worth living if I was subject to the voices. Long life meant nothing without peace.

He ignored the question. "Have you noticed any physical signs of corruption?"

"No."

"It may be too early. Still, I would like to examine you thoroughly."

A short laugh of despair escaped me. "So that's it? It's over for me, after less than five years of the taint?"

"Perhaps it is the Calling, but perhaps not. And if not… then we need another explanation. I need a sample of your blood, Warden-Commander."

That chilled me. I knew very well what sort of experiments he'd been conducting on unwilling victims before I'd stopped him.

He laughed humorlessly at my expression. "Do not worry, I am still operating under your restrictions. I will perform no blood magic with it. I merely wish to test it, to see if I can determine how far the corruption has advanced."

"All right." I submitted to his not-so-tender care. "Ouch."

He looked at me sternly. "You have sustained far worse wounds than this, Warden. Now, if I may make a physical examination."

I stripped off my armor, shivering. I wondered how the old mage stood it, but he seemed oblivious to the frigid temperature. With clinical precision he studied my skin, checking spots like my arm pits and the backs of my knees with particular attention.

"I see no visible signs," he said. "But I will need to confirm by testing your blood. This is very strange. Usually when the Calling is activated, it is accompanied by physical signs as well. Scaly areas on the skin, dark spots, and bruising. You should stay alert for these manifestations."

I pulled my clothes back on. "I'm afraid the voice will break my sanity. I don't know how much longer I can endure this, night after night."

"I must study, and think. Yes… and experiment. Tonight I shall enter the Fade with you and observe your nightmares. Perhaps I may find a clue to their origin."

"No, that's too dangerous." If it was a demon, I would be putting the mage who helped me in grave danger. And if it was something else… who knew what could happen?

Avernus spread his hands and opened his arms. "Look at me, Commander. I am a shell for a worn-out soul. Do you think I fear anything? Traveling into your dream is the best way for me to ascertain the nature of this predation on your mind and confirm whether it is the Calling. And I am not one of your callow youths, lately come into my power. I am the most experienced mage in the order."

He had a point. "No one else can know about this," I said. "I've told Nathaniel, because he found me in the throes of the nightmare. But if word got out that the Warden Commander and Queen of Ferelden suffered from nightly darkspawn visitations — well, Anora would have the pretext she needs to take the throne and call me unfit to rule. And if it's not the Calling, then what's happening is even more terrifying."

"Understood. It would be useful to have another party present, to guard us as we enter the Fade and to strike me down if I exhibit any signs of possession. A Templar's role. The Warden you mentioned — Nathaniel, is it?— would do well. Bring him to my tower after sundown."

"And then…? Are you going to tell me what prompted you to write me?"

"You will have what answer I can give you, Commander. But I need to be sure what I am dealing with, first."

He turned back to his books. It was clearly a dismissal.

Did I know what I was doing? Not at all.

But I didn't have much choice.

"This is a terrible idea," Nate said, rather predictably. "You can still change your mind."

We were almost at the tower door. The temperature had dropped precipitously today and a thin layer of frost covered the walkway. The stars above burned like the lights of Arlathan. I paused to lean on the crenellations and look up at them.

"And then what, Nate? Slowly go mad with the voice in my head every night? Take myself off to the Deep Roads?"

He was silent for a few paces. "You're ill. Have you looked in a glass recently? You appear half-dead."

"You really know how to turn on the charm, Senior Warden. Anyways, I don't have a lot of options. What's the worst that could happen?"

"A demon could possess Avernus and possibly you."

I laughed, although it came out a little shakier than I intended. "Pshaw. How many demons have tried that, over the years? They've all failed. I'm still here. And unpossessed, as far as I know."

His face was more grave that usual. "This is no joking matter, Commander. You are not yourself." He sounded almost apologetic. "Your condition has made you more vulnerable. Furthermore, I do not trust Avernus. In his service to Warden-Commander Dryden, he happily called on demons with no conscience. He shows very little remorse for those actions. He very well may do so again."

I didn't have an answer for that. "Well, that's why you're here, Howe. You'll have to kill me if you see signs of possession."

"I know my duty," he said grimly.

"Well, you didn't have to agree so _quickly._ Let's get this over with."

Before I could change my mind, I opened the door and walked into the tower.

The Fade. I'd been there before, and felt the same disorientation and confusion. The lines between dream and reality blurred and I had to work hard to focus. Normally, I was not conscious of entering the Fade. It was only under the guidance of a mage that I could discern it for what it was.

Even so, the voice was here, a loud humming all around me, singing, crashing.

_WELCOME WELCOME WELCOME_

Avernus — or rather, the projection of Avernus in my dream — put his hands over his ears. He opened his mouth to say something but I couldn't hear him. I shook his head. The voice was too loud.

Avernus pointed, and I turned my head to see what he saw. In the distance, as ever, lay the Black City, its spires piercing the strange cloud of the Fade.

The mage started walking towards the city. I followed. The voice was nearly unbearable and I could feel its sound reverberating throughout my entire body.

Now I saw a pair of dark wings take flight from one of the black spires. I gripped my sword, although it would likely be useless in this place. Avernus stopped and put out a hand to grasp my arm. He mouthed a word to me. I couldn't hear, but I understood his meaning.

Old God.

So it was an Old God's voice I was hearing. Maker. The Old God was Calling me.

The wings flew over the city, lazily, drifting left and right and wheeling like a hawk in flight. I drew my sword and Avernus readied his staff. I knew that it was not possible to die in the Fade — not physically, at least. But if our dream-selves died, we would awaken like Tranquil, with our connections to the Fade broken forever.

_WELCOME WELCOME WELCOME WELCOME_

At that moment, to be honest, the prospect of being Tranquil seemed like not the worst that could happen. At least I wouldn't hear the voice anymore.

It was now clear that the wings belonged to a massive dragon, obsidian and faintly glowing with power.

The voice grew more insistent, battering my head. Avernus fell to his knees, holding his head.

I shouted, "What do you want?" but my words were lost.

_WELCOME WELCOME WELCOME COME COME COME COME Come find me come find me come find me_

"No!" Is this what the darkspawn heard? The dread chorus that compelled them to seek out the Old Gods and corrupt them with the blight?

_COME FIND ME_

"I can't!" The Old Gods, it was said, slept in their prisons in the Deep Roads. The Deep Roads were a vast network the spanned all of Thedas. How would I find the Old God, even if I wanted to?

"Stop!" I shouted again. I couldn't hear my own words. "I hear you! I understand! Please, just stop!"

_COME COME COME COME COME TO DEEP ROADS COME COME COME TO THE DEEP ROADS COME_

_"_ All right! I'll come! I'll do what you ask! Anything! Only I beg you to make it stop!"

I fell to my knees. Avernus stood rigid next to me, eyes closed. His mental prowess must be much stronger than mine.

_COME COME COME COME COME_

And then, suddenly, silence. A blessed silence. I sagged to the ground in relief. Avernus stood still, his eyes closed but his lips moving, murmuring. What was he doing? Casting a spell or…?

The Fade around me began to melt away and a blessed quiet darkness cloaked me. I fell gratefully into peaceful unconsciousness for the first time since the Joining.


	5. In the Blood

When I woke, the noon sun was filtering through the shutters. I was in a room at the keep, in a bed, with Biscuit wriggling with happiness next to me. Nathaniel sat at the table, reading.

As soon as I stirred, he came to my side. "Easy, Elissa. You've been asleep for hours. How do you feel?"

"Wonderful," I said, and stretched. I'd felt like I'd slept for a whole year.

His face relaxed with relief. "I thought so. You slept through the entire night without thrashing once."

"How'd I get here?"

"Oghren and I carried you. You were sleeping like a baby." The side of his mouth twisted up. "I almost feared you were dead."

"Still kicking. What did Ogs say about it?"

"Nothing. I told him you'd had too much to drink and he was very sympathetic."

"Good thinking. Is there any food? I'm starving. Where's Avernus?"

"Oghren put aside some food for you. He insisted on giving you this bottle of brandy, as well. Something about hair of a dog." He indicated a dust-covered vessel on the table. "Avernus rose a few minutes after you both went into the Fade and told me he had work to do, and that I had better get you out of his tower."

"I should go see him."

"Eat, first."

He watched me like a wolf while I ate. "What's the matter, didn't you get enough? You're eyeing me like you want to steal my bread."

Biscuit barked with amusement, and I rewarded him with a small piece of cheese that he caught gracefully in mid-air.

Nate shifted his intense gaze away, as if trying to shake off his anxiety. "I'm sorry. I am concerned about your ordeal. What happened?"

"I don't really remember," I said. "Except that I think an Old God spoke to me."

Nate blanched. "Truly? Then it is the Calling."

"I'm not sure. But then…" I concentrated. The events of the Fade often dispersed quickly in the memory of those who weren't mages. "It stopped."

"Why?" His eyes narrowed. "The Calling just… stopped?"

"I don't know, Nate. Maybe Avernus stopped it. It's the Fade. Nothing is what it seems." I looked down, away from his piercing eyes. "I'm still trying to understand what happened."

I could feel those eyes burning into me, but eventually he said, "Very well. By your leave, I'd like to be present when you discuss matters again with Avernus. Beware of that mage. Once a blood mage, always a blood mage."

"I'll be careful."

###

In the afternoon, Nate and I went back to the tower. The mage was at his desk, engrossed in a book.

I cut to the chase. "Avernus, did you make the voice stop? How did you do that?"

The old mage raised an eyebrow. "Magic."

I crossed my arms. "You're impossible."

"An Old God is indeed Calling you. But it is not _the_ Calling. At least, not as other Wardens experience it."

I sat down. I felt shaky. "What do you mean?"

"When we feel the Calling, it is a chorus of voices. It is as if all the Old Gods sing at once, driving us into the Deep Roads. In your case, there is one Old God who seems to want your attention. The Old God has found a way to deliberately seek you out, activating the taint in your blood before your time."

I closed my eyes. My chest seemed bound by iron and I forced a deep inhale. "Why is an Old God Calling to me?"

Avernus continued to study the text in front of him. "Very curious," he said, apparently to himself. "In your dream, the Old God appeared to be in the Black City. It asked you to come. But how would you get there? I had always believed the Old Gods slept in the Deep Roads."

"What?" Nathaniel looked from me to Avernus and back. "It gave you instructions?"

"In a manner of speaking," I said. "Or a request. A command. But Avernus, I still don't understand. Why is it Calling to me, if my corruption is not advanced?"

He finally looked up. "I do not know," he said. "Either it has chosen you, for some reason, or there is something unique about you that draws it."

"Is there a way to block the voice?" asked Nate. "It is causing the Warden-Commander great distress."

"There is, I believe," said Avernus. "But it requires the use of blood magic to isolate the taint in your blood. The Old God seems to be able to strengthen the taint in some way."

I glanced at Nate. "So if I purge the taint, I can stop the voice?"

"The key has always been in the blood," the mage said intently. His pale, eerie eyes bored into mine. "The Joining is an ancient, crude rite of blood magic. That is one reason we keep it secret. The ritual was developed long before such techniques were forbidden. It predates the Circles and their strictures. I am telling you this so that you understand: the core of our order is founded on a practice that most of Thedas now considers pure evil."

"I see."

"Do you? Warden powers have, from our very origin, been inextricably tied to powers of our blood, the powers enabled by the taint. But the Joining is a clumsy first attempt. It was developed in desperation, when humanity felt there was no other recourse. We take in the blood of the darkspawn. We become Blighted — immune to the Blight because we are already corrupt. We make ourselves shadows of the darkspawn. There has to be a better way."

He continued, "When you confronted the Architect, did you not wonder about his research? I read your report very carefully and with great interest. He was able to accelerate the taint, and to create a mirror ritual to the Joining, using Warden blood to modify the taint on darkspawn; doesn't it follow that someone, using his methods and notes, could learn to _decelerate_ it, as well? This is blood manipulation, the fundamentals of blood magic."

"I think I see," I said slowly. "That's what you wanted to tell me, isn't it. That I can release the darkspawn taint by blood magic."

"Yes. I believe it is possible."

Nate looked daggers at me. "You would not consider such a thing."

Avernus said, "You asked me how I stopped the Old God's voice last night. I used blood magic."

I drew my breath in sharply. I knew many Wardens did not draw such distinctions between blood magic and other forms, but I'd been raised following the Chantry's teachings, and it was hard to overcome two decades of learned aversion.

"Avernus, you promised you would not perform blood magic any more. You swore an oath. It was the condition of your life and your freedom."

He shrugged. "It was the only way to help you. You were suffering. Would you prefer that I hadn't?"

Nate's hand flew to the hilt of his dagger. "I told you we couldn't trust him. He is not safe. We should leave. Now."

I hesitated. "Wait, Senior Warden. What exactly would be involved with this ritual, Avernus?"

The mage, ignoring Nate's glare, considered. "I would need a great deal of lyrium, to begin with. If not lyrium, then blood. Essentially, I would be trying to reverse the Joining."

"Then I wouldn't be a Grey Warden any longer."

"You would not. You would lose such powers as the Grey Wardens have."

"But it is possible."

Nate's voice was choked with shock. "Commander!"

Avernus's eyes bored into mine. "It is possible. Whether I will be able to perform the act is not certain. But that such a way exists… there is no doubt. In my research I found rumors of a Grey Warden who was cleansed of the taint."

My heart leapt. "How?"

The mage shook his head. "That, I do not know. The incident happened after a secret expedition into the Deep Roads over twenty years ago. I believe the Warden was a female elf from Orlais, but that is all I know. If you were able to find this Warden — assuming, of course, that she still lives — I could learn much from a blood sample."

My heart soared. It was possible! I needed to find her and find out exactly what had happened. I started pacing, suddenly restless. "I'll track down this Warden, or any information I can find."

"There is one more thing," said Avernus slowly. Something in the tone of his voice made me stop.

"Yes?" I was wary.

"Commander, I believe I can not only cleanse the taint, but also create a new Joining ritual that would make you more powerful a Warden than you are now. There is a book at Weisshaupt which details the first Joining. It is the grimoire of the first Warden mage. I need access to this document."

"And finally," he continued, his eyes glittering like a Blight wolf's, "I need a component that will replace the darkspawn blood we currently use in the Joining. I need the blood of an uncorrupted Old God."

Nate and I were silent for several moments. Avernus watched us calmly.

I took another deep breath. "So, let me get this straight. You want me to find the Warden who cleansed her taint, an ancient Warden grimoire, and the blood of an Old God? Is that all?"

The mage shrugged. "These tasks shouldn't be a problem for the hero who found the Urn of Sacred Ashes."

"You're not actually considering this?" Nate had recovered from shock and now his voice pulsed with indignation. "It's madness!"

I resumed my pacing. Could I do this? The Old God in my dream wanted me to find him. He was guiding me. If he hadn't been corrupted, then perhaps I could find him and… and what? Bargain for a vial of his blood? Defeat him in battle?

Could I risk such a venture? I'd be risking Wardens' lives and possibly the safety of Ferelden, and for what? So I could save my relationship with Alistair? So I could live longer? Just how self-centered was I? I was disgusted with myself. I looked at Nate, bristling with outrage. He was right. It would be madness to pursue such a plan.

"It would be irresponsible of me to take on this quest," I said slowly. "We have no idea where the Old God is, or what will happen if we reach it. It may be possible to send a group at some later date, when we have more Wardens in Ferelden and fewer threats to our safety. But right now, I can't spare the resources. And I can't go myself. I promised the king I would not leave Ferelden until he returns."

Nate let out a breath.

"Do you think this is about _you_ , Commander?" Avernus scoffed. "You are short-sighted. This work could benefit all the Grey Wardens, for all time. We could transform the way the Joining works and save countless lives. If we were able to _suspend_ the taint, for example, stop it from advancing at all, we could create Wardens that can slay archdemons and fight darkspawn, and still live out their natural days into old age. Get married. Have children." His voice became very soft. "Would that not be a gift of the ages for our order?"

Is it possible? Would we really be able to transform the way the taint worked? Modify the Joining itself?

Nate glowered. "You are speaking of meddling with blood magic. I do not trust you, mage. Nor should you, Warden-Commander."

Avernus shrugged. "It is immaterial to me what you feel, Warden. The research is everything. I need more time. I am working off theories only. I have not tested any of these ideas. For that, I need more information. I need your agreement to proceed with my research again."

"Maker's blood."

Nate turned to me, mouth twisted in anger. "You're not seriously considering this?"

Avernus ignored him. "Eventually, in order to progress with my research, I would need willing subjects. Subjects such as yourself, Cousland. I suspect you are willing to volunteer."

"No," said Nate. "Warden-Commander, you cannot allow this."

I wanted to. I wanted to go along with it. What if the experiment worked? Wasn't it worth trying? But even if I agreed to undergo such a ritual, I knew that Alistair would absolutely fight me. This might be a line that he would never forgive me for crossing. "Nate is right," I said with some reluctance. I still remembered the hideous artifacts in the mage's laboratory, the first time I'd confronted him. The entire keep was infested with demons and the Veil was torn in many places. Because of Avernus and his blood magic. "It's wrong, Avernus, not to mention dangerous. It could risk the entire keep again."

"It is dangerous, I agree. But I have just told you that blood magic is fundamental to the Grey Wardens. How could it be wrong to continue to use it? It is like any other form of magic. Dangerous, yes, but useful. It can be controlled."

"Absolutely not. We find another way."

Avernus shrugged. "I could work with the samples of blood, then, without resorting to blood magic. I am not certain what I can achieve under those restrictions."

"Maybe you will find a way," I said. But inside, I despaired. I stumbled towards the door. "I need to take a walk. Alone."

Drinking in great gulps of icy mountain air felt wonderful. I walked down to the stables to find Biscuit. "Want to go for a walk, boy?"

The light was dying and the winds were picking up. I pulled my cloak more tightly around me. Biscuit and I walked down from the keep, through the trees and into the maze of paths. He barked at a hare and ran off. Dogs were wonderful. They didn't suffer from angst, even the intelligent ones.

I heard Biscuit growling farther down one of the paths, and then a bark. It wasn't the happy bark that signaled he'd captured his quarry, but the sound of high alert. Not danger, but something important.

I ran towards the sound. "What is it, boy?"

He stood guard over a body. I knelt to examine. A woman, in plate armor. "Still alive," I said. "Biscuit, go get help. Get Oghren or Nate and a healer." The dog raced off towards the keep at top speed.

Footsteps behind me. "What's happened?" Nate's voice.

The girl groaned. I gently removed her helmet. "Come on, soldier, stay with me." Her face was covered in blood and her hair was matted with it. I now saw that her livery was that of the king's guard: two red lions rampant. What was a soldier of the king's army doing here? Alone? What had happened?

She opened her eyes. "Have I found the Grey Wardens?"

Nate drew in his breath sharply. "She is Orlesian."

"Her accent is, at least." More questions, but those could wait. "Yes, you have," I said to her. "Help is on the way. Lie still. What's your name, soldier?"

"I must speak to the Warden-Commander," she said. "I am going to Soldier's Peak."

"Later. Let's focus on keeping you alive."

"I have… I had… messages for her. Stolen."

Nate said harshly, "Who stole them? Who sent you? Why are you here?"

"Hush," I said, shaking my head at Nate. I stroked the wounded woman's hair gently. "Just stay alive. Questions will wait."

From the top of the hill, Biscuit's bark announced that help had arrived.

###

"She's an Orlesian spy!" Nate was pacing and fuming. We were back at the keep, with the girl safely in a chamber under the care of a healer. "Or a deserter. We must send her to Denerim immediately for questioning. You heard what Bann Loren said. Perhaps there is truth in his men's tales."

"Now hold on," said Ogs. "Maybe she wants to join up. The boss-lady's famous for letting treacherous blighters fight darkspawn." The dwarf's meaningful look at Nate did not go unnoticed. The senior warden flushed slightly.

"We should talk to her first," I said. "She's looking for the Wardens. I'd like to know more about the messages she claims were stolen."

"I agree, but the Chancellor must be informed of this."

"Why are you so eager to bring Anora into it? She's all the way in Denerim, and she's got enough on her plate. The Grey Wardens will deal with this."

"If the Orlesians are planning an invasion, the Chancellor must be informed. Denerim must be alerted. The king must be recalled immediately."

I cursed myself that I hadn't tried harder to lay Bann Loren's fears to rest. If unchecked, this mood of fear could spiral out of control. "If we uncover any evidence of that, then yes, we will of course inform Anora and the king. But we know nothing at this point. I'm not going to inflame suspicions without more facts. The country is on the edge of a sword. I will not push it over into war over a rumor."

I could see Nate clench his jaw on whatever reply he'd been forming. He took a deep breath. "When you talk to her, I'm coming with you," he said. "She could be an assassin."

"True. Though that doesn't mean she won't join us. Remember, some of my best friends have tried to kill me."

His face finally relaxed, and a flicker of a smile passed over his eyes. "You seem to have a knack for collecting people who want to kill you."

I returned his smile, and then suddenly remembered something. "I'd just sent Biscuit to go get help. You appeared almost before the dog left. How did you get there so fast?"

His mouth twisted. "I was following you, of course. In case of assassins." He looked away from me quickly, as if embarrassed. That was strange.

"Ah. Well, I don't like being followed."

He crossed his arms. "Noted."

I frowned at him. That wasn't exactly the 'yes, Commander' I was looking for.

 


	6. The Prisoner

The prisoner lay in her cot, ashen under her tanned skin, but alert. Her head was wrapped in a bandage and she wore a simple gown. She looked a bit nervous but she was also doing an admirable job of overcoming her anxiety, for she met my eye without hesitation. She was not as young as I’d first thought — she had the look of having a few seasons of soldiering under her belt and I guessed her to be around thirty.

“My name is Justine Fidele.” Her voice was strong and low, the voice of a veteran warrior. “I serve in King Alistair’s royal guard.”

“You are Orlesian,” Nate said immediately. “Explain yourself.”

“Easy, Senior Warden,” I said. “First things first. What were the messages you had for me?”

“From the king,” she said. “For you, your Highness.”

“What?” Nate looked ready to explode again. I waved him to silence.

“Justine, you’d better start from the beginning.”

She nodded. “My father is Orlesian, and my mother is Ferelden. After my parents died, leaving nothing but debts, I decided to leave Orlais. I knew that a cousin of mine had married a Fereldan man in Redcliffe, so I thought I would start there and try to trace some of my mother’s family, of whom I knew very little.”

“When was this?”

“Several years ago — two years before the Blight started. As you can imagine, I was not very popular in Redcliffe due to my origins and my accent, but I was strong and knew how to use a blade, and soon enough I proved my steel and my usefulness. When the civil war began, I was recruited into Arl Eamon’s army. It helped that my cousin had married the Arl and put in a good word for me as my sponsor.”

“What? Your cousin is _Isolde_?”

“Yes,” she said, surprised. “Do you know her?”

I nodded and bit back the choice words about Isolde that were on the tip of my tongue. “Please, go on. Did you fight at Redcliffe?”

“I did, your Highness. I had the honor of standing with you and the King against the corpses that night. I was nearly killed, but by the Maker’s grace I survived. I stayed on as part of the Arl’s guard while he was Chancellor, and when he retired, I was recruited to the king’s army by Arl Teagan’s leave. I have been stationed in Denerim since. Three months ago, the king selected me as part of his personal guard to accompany him to Kirkwall.”

She stopped and took a sip of water. She looked utterly exhausted. She continued, “And almost a fortnight ago, I boarded a ship back to Denerim, to find you, your Highness.”

“Alone?”

“I did not anticipate any danger. My orders were to liaise with the guard in Denerim and co-ordinate with them to locate you and deliver the letters. We believed you were at the palace. Then I was to remain in the city to rendezvous with the rest of the king’s guard when they arrived.”

A sharp spark of joy flared through me. “Then Alistair is coming home soon?”

“I am not certain, your Highness. His business in Kirkwall should be concluded any day now, but he gave no specific timeline.”

I paused, letting myself revel in the idea of Alistair, home at last, for just a moment. I took a deep breath and refocused. “Then what happened?”

She flushed. “When I arrived in Denerim, the Chancellor demanded I hand over the letters, assuring me that she would see them safely in your hands. I, of course, refused.” She tilted her head up, looking every inch the proud warrior. “The king had committed them into my hands, and gave me orders to personally deliver them to you.”

“I’m sure Anora just loved that.”

“She accused me of treason and insubordination,” she said in a voice that shook with fury. “She ordered the other guards to take the letters by force, but they had known me for many months, and were reluctant to act. I took advantage of their confusion and left the city. I had heard from a friend that you were at Vigil’s Keep, and I was sure that there, the Wardens could direct me to you. I made my way to Amaranthine, where I was captured by the guard. The Chancellor had sent word that I was to be arrested.”

“Ah, so you’re the spy that Bann Loren heard about,” I said. “You managed to escape, then?”

“Yes, your Highness. I was able to make my way to Vigil’s Keep.”

“And at Vigil’s Keep, you heard we’d left.”

She gave a wry smile. “I was always a step behind you, your Highness. Seneschal Gareval told me you were on your way to Soldier’s Peak, and if I hurried, I thought I could catch up. I set off immediately.”

I leaned forward. “And now we come to the critical part of your tale. Who attacked you on the road?”

A flush bloomed on her cheeks. It was not embarrassment, I noted, but rage and frustration. “Royal guards from Denerim,” she said. “Men and women I did not recognize, so they had all been recruited after I’d left. They called me a traitor. I managed to escape but they were able to take the letters. They would have killed me, I think, but I lost them in the maze.”

“You’re sure? The Denerim royal guard attacked you?”

She looked me straight in the eyes, unwavering. “I swear on the flames of Andraste,” she said.

 ###

Slanted rays of the weak afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of the great hall where Nate, Oghren, and I sat. Rather, Oghren and I sat, and Nate paced around us like a restless animal.

“Thunderhumper,” Ogs growled. “We’ve been talking in blighted circles for the last two hours. It’s making me want to bash my head in.”

My head felt like someone had already done me that favor. “It’s easy enough to confirm her origin and her identity,” I said. “We can check with Arl Eamon and Isolde and other Denerim guards. I’m inclined to believe her story.”

“That the Chancellor ordered guards to attack her without evidence and steal the king’s letters?” Nate looked daggers at me. “The Warden-Commander that I know would not let her personal animosity towards Chancellor Mac Tir interfere with reason.”

I set my jaw. “I think that it’s perfectly reasonable to believe Anora would declare an Orlesian soldier a traitor and a spy with very little provocation. You were quick to do the same, as soon as Fidele opened her mouth.”

“And you are too quick to trust her.” He sighed and placed his hands on the table between us. “I apologize, Commander. I did judge her too soon, and that was wrong. I do not think she is a spy. But there is more to this story than she is telling us. I’m urging you to notify the Chancellor immediately. Speaking with her will get to the bottom of this.”

“And I’m trying to explain to you why that’s the last thing we should do. Anora is the one who has to answer for what she’s done. Taking the king’s correspondence is a crime.”

“I agree that it was a strange thing for her to do. She must have had reason, however.”

I sat back. My head was pounding and I felt a deep chill again. I had the feeling that there was some pattern here, something lurking just below the surface that I couldn’t quite make out. Anora had made a move, but I didn’t know the pieces or the board. “That is the first thing you’ve said that I agree with. She must have had reason. The question is, what was her reason, and what is her ultimate goal?”

Nate’s eyes narrowed. “What are you implying?”

Oghren let loose a snort of disgust. “Come on, son, what do you think? Are you so sodding blinkered by that woman that you can’t see what she’s up to?”

Nate flinched as if he’d been slapped. His mouth drew into a stubborn line I knew well.

I said carefully, “What do you mean ‘blinkered,’ Ogs?”

The dwarf grunted. “It’s obvious. Ser Broods-a-lot’s carrying a massive torch for our Lady of the Frosted Stick up her Butt. Has been for years, I bet. She’s playing you, son. She’s playing you like a doll on a string.”

The swift, sarcastic denial I expected from Nate did not come. Instead he stared at the fire.

“Nate, is this true? Are you in love with Anora?”

“What does it matter?” he asked savagely.

The dwarf snorted with contempt. “You need to go soak your head. Or get laid. Sodding love-sick surfacers, stone take you all.”

Silence covered us like snowfall for several minutes after Ogs had stomped away. Nate stood stock-still in front of the fire, as rigid as oak.

I was torn between sympathy and anger. I was furious with myself that I hadn’t seen it before. I was so out of touch with those under my command that it took Oghren, of all people, to point out what I should have detected long ago.

I cleared my throat. “Your feelings about Anora are immaterial. They’re none of my business. My order stands. We keep Justine under our protection, and treat the incident as a Grey Warden matter for the time being. No word to Anora or anyone else outside the Wardens until we investigate further.”

He gave me a curt nod.

It would have to do. The whole incident had made me jumpy. Did the Chancellor have real evidence for her suspicions? Or was Anora was deliberately fanning fears of Orlais for reasons of her own?

Were we all dolls on her strings, dancing to her tune?

 ###

I walked out once more with Biscuit. It was the only way I could get some time alone to think, and the frigid air seemed to stimulate my brain. How would I be able to accomplish the tasks Avernus had set forth? I couldn’t see a way to do them without leaving Ferelden. Finding the grimoire — that was likely locked up in the archives at Weisshaupt; I couldn’t delegate something that serious, especially as I was pretty certain the First Warden would not let me get to it through official means. Then there was the matter of the Old God. Even if I managed to find this creature, how would I convince it to give me a sample of his blood? What would he want in exchange?

Finally, where was this Orlesian Warden who had cleansed the corruption? Clarel in Montsimmard would never tell me. They’d kept this incident a secret for a reason. Was this Warden even still alive? Where would I even begin to look?

There was only one person I knew who would be able to tease out such a long-kept secret.

Only, I didn’t know how to contact her. I didn’t know where she was, only that she was involved with the Chantry somehow. But at least she had a name. I could look for her, perhaps. I could write to the Reverend Mothers in Denerim and in Amaranthine. Perhaps even search in Orlais. I could ask the Wardens to keep a look out for her.

When I got back to the keep, I penned a letter to the Revered Mother of the Chantry of our Lady of Light in Amaranthine and asked Levi if he could find someone to deliver it as soon as possible.

I would try to find her.

But the question was, did she want to be found?

### 

I paced my room restlessly, drained and depressed, turning over my options. Alistair was coming to Denerim. There was no way I wouldn’t go see him, Calling be damned. I had to tell him what was going on. I needed to feel his arms around him, hear his voice. I desperately wanted to hear him tell me it was going to be all right. _Lie to me if you have to, Alistair. Tell me you can help me figure this out._

Nate and Oghren were in the hall, having their midday meal. “We go back to Denerim,” I announced. “We need to talk to the Chancellor and rendez-vous with the king.”

Nate looked relieved. “And what of our prisoner?”

“We’ll take our _guest_ with us as far as Vigil’s Keep. The Wardens have more resources there, and she’ll be safe there until we can sort out what’s happening.”

“And we can set a guard,” Nate said. “Very well.”

“Along the way, we will stop in Amaranthine. I want to speak with Constable Aiden myself to hear his account of Justine and her escape.”

“It’ll be good to get back to Denerim,” Oghren said. “There’s this cute little barmaid over at the Pearl who’s been missing ol’ Oghren something fierce.”

### 

Justine was still weak but Avernus had helped considerably with her recovery, providing strong healing magic and herbs that eased her pain. I went to go thank him for his aid.

“Has the voice returned?” he asked.

I nodded, wincing.

He was thoughtful. “An experienced mage could help you, perhaps. Join you in the Fade, as I did, and employ magic to protect you from the voice.”

“No,” I said quickly. “It’s too dangerous. I won’t let another mage risk using blood magic.”

Avernus shrugged. He rummaged among his papers and produced an enormous tome, bound in leather. “Take this. These are my research notes. For two hundred years, I searched for a way to modify the Joining and prevent the Calling. I know my time is soon upon me. I may finally go to find my rest in the Deep Roads, as I should have done decades go. I may not see you again. Therefore, take my research and see if another mage can make sense of it.”

His eyes snapped back to me and appraised me coldly. “If we do not find a solution soon, it may be too late.”

“Thanks for that. Always the bearer of good news, you are.”


	7. Attack on the Road

We found shelter in a farmer’s barn that night. As we arranged our bedrolls, Nate pulled me aside. “You had the dreams again?”

“Yes. Is it obvious?”

“You look tired. I am sorry. I will stay on watch while you rest.”

I nodded, too tired to speak. The idea of facing another night with the voice filled me with dread. Should try to actively listen to the voice, as Avernus had suggested, and find out what it wanted? The thought terrified me. The voice was strong enough when I tried to resist it. If I opened myself up to it, wouldn’t it take me completely? What if my mind drowned in the sound? I would lose myself. Lose my mind.

I noticed my hands were shaking as I laid out my bedroll. “Wake me if it gets really bad,” I said to Nate.

“You have my word,” he said.

I closed my eyes.

 

At first the voice was just a wall of sound, again, beating a rhythm deep in my gut. This time, I focused.

_I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT._

I struggled to make sense of the sound.

_I know what you want, human. I can help you._

“Who are you?”

_Your people call me Lusacan. Come find me. Speak with me._

“What are you? Where are you?”

_Come find me, human. Let my voice guide you._

“How? How do I find you? What do you want?”

_Find me where I sleep._

Then my strength faltered and my focus shattered. The words became a pounding ocean again and I screamed in pain.

 

The day was covered in fog. My limbs felt heavy and I was so limp I thought I might fall off my horse. Nate looked concerned, and even Oghren noticed something was amiss, taking opportunities to joke about my clumsiness.

I tried to take deep breaths and focus on the positive. _Alistair_. His name was a talisman. “How was the king, Justine, when you left him?”

“He was well, your Highness. The situation in Kirkwall is complicated and dire, but he did well. I am sure he misses you, of course. He spoke of you constantly.”

“Ah. I suppose he referred to me as the ‘old ball and chain’ again?”

“I wouldn’t remember that, your Highness,” she said slyly.

I sighed. Alistair thought it was hilarious to call me that. “Did he get any of my letters? I wrote him nearly twice a week.”

“Correspondences were difficult to track, but yes, I believe he received several.”

“And you wouldn’t happen to know what was in the letters you carried?”

“I don’t make a habit of reading other people’s mail, your Highness. Especially when it belongs to my king.”

“Yes, of course. I just hoped… I haven’t had any word from him.” I bit my lip.

“That’s strange,” Justine said. “He did write to you, I’m sure of it. Perhaps the letters were lost.”

Perhaps. Or stolen. Was this another piece of Anora’s plan? But why?

We rode on in silence for a while, and then a whisper tugged at my consciousness, sparking a memory from my nightmare.

“Lusacan,” I said aloud, to no one in particular. “What is Lusacan?” The name rang a faint chord, but I couldn’t place it.

Nate looked as confused as I, but Justine turned to look back at us. “Lusacan? That is the name of an Old God, Dragon of Night.”

“Why do you ask?” asked Nate quietly.

“I— oh, nothing.”

Justine cocked her head in a puzzled fashion. “Do not Grey Wardens study such things? The Old Gods that the darkspawn turn into Archdemons with their corruption?”

“Now that you mention it, yes, I do recall that name,” I said. “You seem to know more than the average solider about Grey Wardens.”

She blushed. “I have wanted to join your ranks since the Battle of Redcliffe. But when the king recruited me to his guard, I felt my duty was to serve him. As he is, also, a Grey Warden,I contented myself that in serving him, I was still helping the order.”

Ogs said, “Told you she’d want to sign up.”

She looked at me with a huge beaming smile. “Perhaps, your Highness, if you wouldn’t mind… you could persuade the king to release me from his service so I could join the Grey Wardens?”

Her eyes were lit with hope and eagerness. I couldn’t bear to see them extinguished. “Perhaps,” I said. “We’ll see.”

“Oh, would you? Thank you, your Highness.”

Nate looked at me. “And it seems you will help another lost soul find her path, Commander.”

“Stuff it,” I muttered, and cantered away ahead of the group to be with my own thoughts for a bit.

 

We’d just crossed a bridge when Biscuit suddenly stopped, legs stiff and head high. I knew that look and signaled us all to a halt. I watched the dog. He lowered his head and growled.

“Ready yourselves,” I warned. I drew my sword.

We all dismounted. Nate had his bow out and he slipped like a shadow into the trees. Oghren gave his battle-ax a swing. “Finally! Some action. I was just about to fall asleep.”

I glanced at Justine. Her face was pale, but she gripped her sword and shield steadily. “Don’t push yourself, Justine,” I said. “Stay alive.”

She nodded.

 

Arrows flew from the brush, and the mabari quickly found their source. He overpowered one bandit, tearing at his throat, while one of Nate’s arrows sprang from the chest of the other, killing her instantly.

With a graceful leap, Justine threw herself in battle against two of them while I circled to flank and stab, striking out with both blades at once.

“More coming!” Nate shouted.

Oghren was taking care of himself just fine, swinging against three hapless attackers, chuckling as they tried to scramble away. Justine worked slowly and powerfully, blocking and counter-attacking with a precision in her movements that impressed me. She seemed to have a sixth sense for arrows, for her shield was always there to block them just before they hit. Every movement of hers flowed gracefully into the next, and she sliced through the line of enemies with the steady, deadly expertise of a truly elite combatant. Only one other warrior I’d ever fought with had a similar mix of grace and strength, although his style was different from hers. His was the way of the roaring lion, while hers was the way of the light-footed panther.

She controlled the battlefield with astonishing discipline. I stayed close to her, worried about her state and the fact that we didn’t have a healer with us. I danced in, blades whirring, and darted out of reach before the bandit could counter.

_COME TO THE DEEP ROADS_

The voice hit my head like a hammer and I stumbled. _Maker’s breath, not now._ My feet seemed made of lead. “Blast!” I’d moved too slowly, and lost my footing. The bandit was injured and crazed with fury. He leapt for me, sword lashing out towards my head.

“Your Highness!” Suddenly Justine had flung herself over me, taking the brunt of the bandit’s blade square on her shoulder. I felt her whole body shudder with the effort.

_No, Maker, do not let her die for me._

I heaved myself clear. My mind was spinning and my eyes blurred. _I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT._

I heard Oghren shout as two more dark figures sprang at me. They’d sensed weakness. Justine interceded again, placing her body between me and my attackers. Maker help me, I fell back in desperation. It was as if I’d forgotten how to fight. My body wouldn’t move in the way I’d been trained.

Justine launched into a ferocious flurry of short, sharp cuts that beat back one bandit and felled him with a slash at the back of his knee; she was breathing heavily now. I shook my head to clear it. The other bandit came for her. She sprang back, flinging her shield at him in a graceful arc. Then, at the exact moment the shield connected with the man’s face, her sword swung to slice at the other side of neck, nearly severing the head.

I’d never seen a move like that. It was amazing. But I had no time to marvel at it, because as she bent to retrieve her shield one more attacker swung his long two-handed axe at me. I barely managed to roll out of the axe swing when it came crashing down near my head. I kicked out wildly and somehow managed to strike his knee. He staggered back.

_COME FIND ME_

I concentrated on building the mental blocks, but it was impossible to do that and fight.

“Elissa!” That was Nate. I heard his arrow sing right over me and stab the bandit in the armpit, where he was unprotected by armor. He howled, but raised his axe for another blow.

I’d somehow dropped my weapons. My hands were empty. I twisted away, scrambling to get up.

_I KNOW_

On my knees now. I scrabbled in the dirt for my weapons — for any weapons. Darkness blinded me, the voice drowned me. My fingers closed around my dagger; my sword was nowhere to be found. As the bandit lunged, I managed to twist aside and grab his wrist with my right hand, using the leverage to propel me to my feet and at the same time swing the dagger in my left hand into the exposed flesh just under his chin.

_WHAT YOU WANT_

I staggered back. My vision clouded with white, and the voice was swallowing me. My hands were covered in blood.

I slipped into unconsciousness and into the ocean of the voice.

 

Someone was shaking me. Through the terrible voice, another: “Elissa! Wake up! Elissa!”

I opened my eyes.

Nate. Oghren. Biscuit. “Justine?” I asked.

“Here, your Highness.” Her face came into view, streaked with blood. “I’m just a bit bruised, but I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Nate took charge. “Can you walk?”

I gingerly moved my limbs. “I don’t think so.”

“Let’s get her up and away from the road. Come on, then.” He propped me up. I was too far gone to even feel any pain. “We’ll set up camp up the hill, out of sight from the road. Oghren, could you fetch wood and get a fire started? Justine, if you feel up to it, find some water, please. We passed a stream not too far back.”

While the others followed his instructions, he carried me up the hill, with Biscuit following closely. He set me down on the grass. “What happened? You’ve never lost your footing like that before.”

“Everyone makes mistakes.” It hurt to talk.

“It’s the dreams, isn’t it? The Old God? It’s speaking to you when you’re awake, now.” There was an edge of panic to his voice.

“I’m just tired. Don’t worry so much.”

He just looked at me. “Maker’s blood, you need to rest. You need healing, beyond what skill any of us here have.”

“I look that bad, huh?” I hadn’t thought, before, of the impact the voice might have on my companions. I was supposed to be their strong, fearless leader. And I’d stumbled in battle like a raw recruit. I’d barely managed to get out alive, and Justine had to take a hit for me. I was a danger to them all. “I’ll be fine, Nate. Don’t worry about me.”

“You are not fine. We need to contact Vigil’s Keep and ask them to send a mage immediately. We can meet them on the road.”

“How do you imagine we do that? Do you have some secret method of…” I broke off. He avoided my eyes. “You do, don’t you.”

“I was trained to work with ravens.”

“We don’t have any working ravens at Vigil’s Keep yet. We’re waiting for Montsimmard to send a spymaster.”

“I… Anora trained me.”

“ _Anora!?_ How does she know anything about ravens?”

“She has been studying bardic arts. Did she not tell you?”

“Of course not. Why would she tell me such a thing?” Nate had just given me yet another reason not to trust her. Did he truly not see? How could he be so blind to her nature? I knew Anora did nothing for free. Why did she teach Nate how to work with the ravens? What was she getting at? “When did this happen?”

He made a sound of impatience. “You may interrogate me later, Commander. At the moment, we need help urgently. I can call a raven and we will send a message.”

A strange voice broke in. “Why bother with that when you have a healer right here?”

Nate whirled, dagger in hand. I could only shift my head slightly to see a fuzzy outline of a figure dressed in forest colors, ochre and green, carrying a staff.

“Identify yourself,” Nate barked.

The elf held up his hands and advanced slowly. He had Dalish tattoos and his hair was an improbable shade of deep, bright red, bound loosely in a knot. “Calm yourself, Ser Twitchy. If I were here to harm you, do you think I would have announced myself?” He smiled. “I’m here to help. I am a healer.”

“An apostate!”

“I prefer the term ‘free mage’,” he said. “‘Apostate’ sounds so nefarious. Will you let me help your friend?”

My voice came out cracked. “Nate, let him.”

Nate moved aside. “I am watching you, elf.”

He merely lifted his eyebrows at that but made no comment, and then knelt by me. His cool fingers touched my brow and my temples, then his hands ran lightly along my arms and my legs.

“Do I know you?” Through my fog, I saw his face and a memory floated back to me. The kind blue-grey eyes, the soft voice… “Are you the one the Dalish call Aneirin the Healer? Wayne’s former apprentice?”

Nate lowered his dagger a fraction. “You know this mage?”

The mage started and squinted more closely at my face. “Can it be — Lady Elissa Cousland? It is you! I am sorry, I did not recognize you under all the blood and dirt. I’ve been looking for you.”

“There you go, Nate. That’s the perfect disguise. Blood and…” A fit of coughing interrupted me.

Aneirin turned back to his task with brisk efficiency. “Nothing broken, by Mythal’s mercy. You were very lucky. But there is a deep wound inside your ribcage. It must hurt.” He closed his eyes and hummed. The familiar healing warmth emanated from his hand and bathed me in sunshine. I relaxed.

“All done. The best thing you can do now is sleep. I can give you some herbs that will help ease the pain.”

“No, no sleep. Not yet. What are you doing here? Were you following us?”

He looked surprised. “Following you? I didn’t even know you were here. Not until I saw the — all that mess.” He waved to the road down the hill, where we’d left the bandit bodies. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here in time to help with that. I heard voices and thought you might need some help. When I saw the Grey Warden uniform, I figured you weren’t a bandit.” He nodded at Nate. “But yes, I was sent to find you.”

“But what are you doing here, traveling by yourself?” Nate did not relax an inch. His hand still rested lightly on his dagger.

“I can generally take care of myself, especially in the woods. I’m small and quiet and no one notices me unless I want to make myself known.”

I said, “Why were you looking for me?”

“The Dalish wanted to deliver something to the Grey Wardens and since I had once met you, the clan thought I’d be a good emissary. But let’s take care of you first, and then I’ll tell you all about it. Hush now.”


	8. The Elven Gift

The elf saw to my other, more minor wounds with quiet efficiency, and then busied himself with checking Nate over for injuries. I lay back, too exhausted to give voice to the questions that crowded my head.

The others returned shortly after, and introductions were made. Oghren, with the help of Biscuit and Justine, had done better than fetch wood and water: he also brought back a brace of hare. He got to work on building a fire and fixing a meal while Aneirin treated Justine’s shoulder. Nate kept watch.

It was getting colder, although I couldn’t tell if it was because I was tired, or because the weather was changing. Winter was deepening. In a few weeks, camping outside would be impossible.

#

Once we were settled in around the fire, we had a chance to hear Aneirin’s story.

“When you last saw me,” he said with a nod in my direction, “I was living with the Dalish. Not exactly with them, I suppose, but near enough. I followed the clan and shared their campfires now and then. Wynne kindly suggested I ask First Enchanter Irving if I could return to the Circle. She offered to intercede on my behalf and champion my cause. I did consider it for a time. But I knew, deep down, that the rules and order of the Circle aren’t for me. I love the open air, the woods, and being close to the animals of the wilds.

“However, life among the Dalish wasn’t exactly what I’d anticipated, either. The Dalish have their own rules, in their own ways just as restrictive as the Circle’s. I started to feel that I didn’t quite fit in. I suppose I’d been apart from other elves for too long. For a while I followed Keeper Lanaya and her clan. During the Blight, I did what I could to help those in need, elf and human alike. I ventured into human settlements and healed refugees. I avoided templars, and as you remember, that time was so chaotic that one more wandering mage drew little attention.

“After the Blight was over, I wandered among the clans for a while, offering healing magic and herbs and other skills. I traveled all over Ferelden and the Free Marches. I met several other free mages, living as apostates, fearing to enter cities or even trade with others. Their plight was mine. Although I had chosen a solitary life, many others did not have that choice.

“But I’m digressing. I’ve spent the last few months with a clan that originally made its home in the Brecilian wilds. When the Blight came, many of them fled north across the Waking Sea. I met with them in the Free Marches. Their Keeper had found an elven artifact that she wanted returned to the Wardens, and asked me to deliver it to you.”

“What is this artifact?”

In answer, he dipped his hand into his pack and gently extracted something wrapped in soft leather. He carefully undid the ties and let the leather fall open. Shrouded within was what appeared to be a shard of glass about the size of my hand. “It’s a piece of an Eluvian that Duncan destroyed, years ago, in a temple in the Brecilian forest. We had believed that the shards were accounted for, but this one remains. The Keeper thought, as Duncan’s successor, you should have it.”

I stretched out my hand for it but Aneirin’s voice stopped me. “Careful. It is tainted.”

“So am I,” I said, but I withdrew my hand.

Aneirin nodded. “Perhaps you would be safe with it, then. I am protecting myself from its effects with magic.” He wrapped it up again. “I can carry it for you until we reach a place where you can safely store it.”

“Do you know anything about the Eluvians?”

He shook his head. “Not much. Another of the Sabrae clan had made it her focus on study, nearly to the point of obsession. But she is somewhere north of the Waking Sea now.”

“When we get to Vigil’s Keep, we will find a way to store the shard. Perhaps the Warden mages can learn something from it. It is ancient elven magic, I’ve been told.”

“Yes,” said Aneirin. “The ancient elves created many treasures now lost to us.”

#

Justine offered to take first watch, and I made sure my tent was as far away from the others as it could be while still enjoying a bit of warmth from the embers of the fire. I asked Aneirin to look in on me before he went to sleep.

“Yes, your Highness? Do you need more herbs?”

“That’s not what I want to talk to you about. How experienced are you in the Fade?”

Aneirin looked puzzled. “The Fade? I suppose I am as experienced as any mage, although I haven’t made a particular study of it like some. I prefer to work with forces in the physical realms. Why?”

I explained what was happening, as well as I could.

He knit his browns together. “Could this voice be coming from a demon or anotherspirit of the Fade? There are many such, you know, and they might be attracted to a powerful being like yourself.”

“It could, I suppose. I’m not a mage. I don’t know. But a Warden mage who examined me seemed convinced that it was no demon. He thinks it’s an Old God.”

“And you’re certain you’re not a mage? No chance you may be drawing something out of the Fade without realizing it?”

I held up my fingers. “No sparkles, ever. I was wondering if you would be willing to help me enter the Fade and explore a bit. Gather evidence. Try to make sense of what is happening. If you feel up to it.”

“Hm.”

“I understand if you don’t want to. It’s dangerous. I did it before, with the Warden mage. He is very old and very experienced. It was difficult, but not because we had to fight possession. There’s a voice that’s overwhelming — it’s almost physically overpowering. But if you could come with me into the Fade, we might be able to find out more. And I’d like to hear what you think of the voice.”

Aneirin chewed his lip. “All right, I’m intrigued. I’ll help. When did you want to do this?”

I pushed away the fear that snaked across my chest. “I suppose there’s no time like the present.”

Once again, I asked Nate to stand by in case something went wrong.

It was crowded, with the three of us in one tent, but at least all that body heat made us a little warmer. Biscuit stood guard outside with Oghren while Justine rested.

I lay down on the bedroll. “Are you still willing to enter the Fade with me?”

“More than willing! Eager, and curious.” Aneirin’s eyes shone with excitement.

“Then let’s begin.”

#

I swam through the mist. It felt different, this time. Very different. Why?

Aneirin was beside me. “Are you all right?”

I could hear him. That was the most disorienting thing of all.

The silence.

“The voice — it’s gone. I can’t understand it.”

I felt my feet now, and I could walk. I looked all around me. The Black City lay far in the distance, but all was silent and still. We were in a dream-version of the woods near Denerim. There was a light mist covering the ground, and a sense of peace pervaded. I knew this spot well. Alistair and I used to picnic there. There was a pretty spot by a stream where we’d… I shook my head. Now was not the time to wander down memory lane.

Aneirin had moved off, exploring. “It’s so interesting being in other people’s dreams! Oh look, who’s that?”

Someone was walking towards us.

Aneirin squinted. “I think it’s an animal of some sort.”

I could just barely make out the shape through the mist. “A wolf!”

Indeed, we soon saw that it was a massive dire wolf. Its fur was silver, its eyes blue as a mountain lake. I took a step back and drew my sword.

The wolf did not react, but remained calm. I felt no threat, no fear. Rather the opposite. The animal conveyed complete serenity in his aspect. I was certain that it was a supernatural being. It lowered its head, as if in greeting.

Aneirin knelt and held out his hand towards the creature. “How curious. I don’t think he’s a spirit. He’s certainly not a demon. He feels like… another dreamer? Like one of is. But how did he come into your dream? Why is he in wolf form? I’ve never encountered something like this in the Fade.”

The wolf sat on his haunches and enveloped me in his ice-blue gaze. _Greetings. I had hoped to find you here._ The animal looked to Aneirin. _Well-met, little brother_.

Aneirin was silent, staring. I cleared my throat, which was very dry. “Who are you?”

_I am just a dreamer, walking the paths of memories._

“What do you mean? Why are you here?”

_Lusacan’s call to you resounds so loudly that even I hear echoes of it, when I walk the Fade. I am reaching you through your memories._

“What do you mean, reaching me through my memories?”

_I am from a time beyond your time, human child. When you dream, you leave echoes in the Fade. I wander those echoes, and I found my way back through your memory to you. This is interesting. I do not know why I am able to speak to you like this. Usually I am but an observer, stalking the past._

“A time beyond mine? The future? Are you in a different time from me?”

_Time does not matter in the Fade. The Fade connects all times, all pasts, all futures; dreams and memories both. I have watched you at Denerim, slaying the Archdemon; I saw the destruction of Ostagar. I have encountered your memories many times, but you have never been able to see me before. This is most unusual._

My mind couldn’t absorb this. Next to me, I saw Aneirin, glassy-eyed, still staring at the wolf with a sort of devouring attention.

I tried to think of critical questions I needed answers to. “Can you tell me why Lusacan is contacting me?”

_I believe it is for the same reason I am able to reach you through your memories. You have become a conduit. A beacon._

“How?”

_Somehow, you have been able to create a path for me to travel. Lusacan must have found it, as well._

“But I’m no mage. How was I able to do this?”

 _That, I could not say. I need to study this more. For all my time spent in the Fade, I find I am always discovering new aspects of it._ The wolf sounded amused.

My head was bursting with questions, too many to sort out. “Lusacan wants me to find him. I don’t know where he is. Do you?”

_I do not know. I do not advise you to seek him out. If you wake him, he may already be corrupt, and you risk another Blight. The Old Gods have their own ways. You must assume that he wants to use you for his own purpose._

“Then what should I do? How do I stop this voice?”

The animal looked at me with limpid eyes, brimming with compassion. _Forgive me, I do not know. Nor can I linger. But I promise you this: for tonight, at least, I can protect you from Lusacan’s voice. You will sleep deeply and remember nothing of your dreams when you wake, except what I’ve told you._

“Wait!” This was Aneirin, who had finally found his voice. “Will we see you again? Tell us who you are!”

The strange wolf turned away and stalked back into the forest. _Sleep, little brother. Sleep, human. Sleep and rest while you can._

The world around me began to melt away and a blessed quiet darkness cloaked me.

 _Give my regards to Flemeth when you see her_ , the wolf’s voice whispered in my ear before I slipped into blissful nothingness.

How would the wolf know about Flemeth? I wondered.

#

I slept through to morning and I woke refreshed and deeply thankful for the respite. Aneirin sat next to me. “Nate’s out hunting,” he said cheerfully. “I made herbal tea. Want some?”

“Thank you.” I accepted gratefully. The tea smelled sharp and rich and when I took a sip, I felt the tightness in my chest ease a bit.

The elf’s eyes were dancing with excitement. “I think I know who we encountered in your dream. It’s marvelous. I can’t understand it. But I’m sure of it.”

“You mean the wolf? What is it?”

“I think we were visited by an aspect of the Dread Wolf. One of the Creators of the elves. The one we call Fen’Harel.” His voice was suffused with both awe and glee.

“I don’t know much about elven lore,” I said, “but isn’t the Dread Wolf evil?”

“He’s not _evil_. I mean, not exactly. Capricious, maybe, and sometimes cruel. The Dread Wolf doesn’t suffer fools. He’s the Lord of Tricksters, the Roamer of Beyond. Also, appropriately enough, the Bringer of Nightmares.”

I shuddered. “But if it’s really the Dread Wolf, he made my nightmare voice go silent. Why? Why did he help me?”

“I don’t know,” said Aneirin. “But isn’t it exciting? He called me ‘little brother’.” He shivered with pleasure. “I wonder if any other elves have been visited by a vision of one of the Creators? Can I come with you to your dream again tonight? I have so many questions for Fen’Harel. Can we contact him again?”

I sipped my tea, absorbing this information. “Maybe. I don’t want you taking any unnecessary risks.”

“Oh, but some experiences are worth the risk.” The elf’s eyes shone like stars. “A chance to meet a Creator in your dream is not something to pass up. By the way, I have been looking at the research notes the old mage gave you. I think I might be able to ease some of the symptoms during your time in the Fade.”

“Really? Aneirin, I would be grateful forever if you could.”

“I can’t promise it will work,” he said, “but I think there may be a way for me to dull the activity of the corruption and perhaps mute the voice you hear. I need more time to come up with a solution, but it may be possible.”

“Is it blood magic?”

“The ancient elves made no such a distinction,” Aneirin said,bit evasively. “Magic is magic. No form is inherently evil.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Aneirin sighed. “It’s not always easy to tell where one form of magic begins and another ends. I will certainly not be summoning any demons from the Fade or any such nonsense. I believe those activities are dangerous. But I will be using magic to isolate and contain the component of your blood that bears the darkspawn taint.”

“Just how will you do that?”

“How do I knit flesh and bone? How do I draw flames out of air? You can’t understand if you’re not a mage. I’m not trying to be deliberately obtuse. It’s simply that you lack the philosophical apparatus to understand even the basics. But I won’t be trying to control you, or harm you in any way. I’m a healer, Elissa. What I’m going to try to do is the same treatment I would recommend for someone suffering from a plague: isolate and try to eliminate or contain the infection, and prevent it from contaminating the rest of the body. Will you let me try?”

I hesitated. It sounded a lot like the blood magic techniques that Avernus was using on himself to prolong his life. But I was running out of options. The voice was now endangering not only me, but my companions as well. Then I nodded. “But don’t tell anyone else, Aneirin. This stays between us.”

#

By now, I heard distinct echoes of the voice all the time. I had to work constantly to keep up the mental barriers to shut out the sounds. Oghren stopped making jokes about my falling off my horse after the third time it happened. Nate strapped me in.

We had to stop and rest more frequently, which slowed us down considerably.

“I’m not a fit leader,” I whispered as Nate helped me dismount, yet again. “I can’t do this.”

“You can, and you are. You are the Warden-Commander, Elissa. The Hero of Ferelden. We follow you.”

We had to tell Oghren and Justine the truth about what was happening, since I couldn’t hide it anymore. I wasn’t afraid that either of them would betray me, but I hated having to burden them with the anxieties that came along with knowing that your commander was that incapacitated.

The worst part was not knowing what to do. I tried to speak with the Old God again but I was too tired to focus at all, and I learned nothing new.

#

Nate had just called a rest when the soldiers appeared on the road. They were dressed in Denerim guard colors. At first, I felt only relief to see them, until I noticed that Justine had gone pale and she shifted in her saddle as if preparing to bolt.

“Hail, Wardens,” said the one I identified as the leader. “Well met. We respectfully relieve you of the prisoner, Justine Fidele, of Orlais.”

Nate snapped, “Watch your tone, Lieutenant. You address the Warden-Commander and Queen of Ferelden Elissa Cousland Theirin.”

The Lieutenant paled. Clearly he had not expected that Justine would be in such exalted company.

I straightened my spine with effort. “Good day, soldier. On whose orders is Guard Fidele to be arrested?”

“By order of the Chancellor, your Highness. She is to answer for crimes against the crown. She is a very dangerous personage.” The Lieutenant eyed Justine warily. “She has escaped from a group of my guards once already.”

“As you see, Justine Fidele is under the charge of the Grey Wardens. We’ll take good care of her, don’t worry. If you like, you may accompany us to Denerim.”

The soldiers looked at each other. There was no protocol for this. “We have orders to apprehend Fidele right away,” said the Lieutenant, but he sounded far from convinced.

“She is already apprehended and in Grey Warden custody. That should satisfy the Chancellor. Now, will you lead the way, or shall we?”

The Lieutenant hesitated, and then saluted. “We will ride on, your Highness.”

The soldiers wheeled their horses and cantered off. I sagged in my saddle.

“I owe you a great debt,” Justine murmured to me, her eyes downcast.

“Nonsense. As if I’d let Anora take you. How did she know where to send her soldiers, by the way. Nate? Any ideas?”

I’d expected him to snap something defiant at me, but he looked troubled. “No, Commander,” he said. “I’ll scout ahead.”

He pulled his horse ahead and out of earshot.

I had a feeling that wasn’t the last we’d see of Anora’s soldiers.


	9. Spies and Ravens

We finally reached Vigil’s Keep, where we could spend a couple of days regrouping. Justine’s energy was flagging, but Aneirin proved to be an exceptional healer. “She is strong,” he said. “She will pull through admirably, provided she gets enough rest.” He glanced at me. “You, on the other hand…”

“I’m fine,” I said. “And before you ask again, no, you’re not coming into the Fade again with me.”

He sighed. “Well, be that as it may, I brewed an herbal remedy that might help with the headaches and the voices.” He produced a fragrant leather pouch. “Take a pinch of these with hot water in the morning. Let me know if it helps. In the meantime, I will continue to refine the technique to further protect you from the voice.”

“Thank you, Aneirin.”

 #

The spymaster from Orlais had arrived and I went to visit the rookery. Orlesians had long used the birds to send messages, but the practice was relatively new to Ferelden, and I hadn’t had much exposure to it. We did have a Royal spymaster in Denerim but he was a crabby old prune and I hadn’t sought him out often.

I wondered where Anora had learned the craft. She must have sought someone out in secret. It was not a common skill, and the techniques were closely guarded by those who held them. In spite of myself I was impressed with her forethought and initiative.

I found the Orlesian spymaster, a taciturn woman of middle years, inspecting the new brood of chicks. She glanced up at me as I approached. “Good day, Commander,” she said.

“Good day. I trust you are settling in well?”

She nodded. “Well enough. The chicks are all healthy. Once I identify a few suitable candidates I’ll start bonding the birds to their handlers.”

“How are the handlers trained?”

“Carefully,” she said drily. “It is not easy to work with the ravens. The birds are clever, and highly independent. They do not form attachments easily, and once forged, they will be loyal to the end. The handler must be sensitive enough to bond with the creatures and at the same time, detached enough to be able to send the birds into danger when necessary.”

That described Anora to a T, I thought ruefully. She would no doubt make an excellent spymaster. “How does it work? How do the birds know where to go?”

“These are not ordinary birds,” she said. “They are bred for their intelligence and cunning, and while still young, they are treated by a mage to enhance their navigation and communication abilities. Common messenger birds are trained to return to one specific location. You would take several on the road with you and send messages back to only that location. But with these beauties, the handler may impart a new location, provided the handler is trained appropriately in cartography and navigation. The handler must understand how the ravens find locations, and use that system to guide the birds. This means we can send a bird to nearly every place that we have mapped.” The spymaster smiled. “It is not an easy skill to learn. Many spymasters take years to master the craft, and it takes months to train the ravens.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Please keep me updated on your progress.”

The spymaster bowed and turned back to the raven chicks.

 #

I was heading to the stables when a young Warden ran up to me. “A letter came by courier for you, Commander,” he said.

I took it eagerly, but it was not from the king. I suppressed my sigh of disappointment. “Very good, Warden. Thank you.”

I examined the missive with interest. The exterior was unmarked. It was a very fine piece of dyed parchment, edged with gold, with a slight perfume to it. The seal was ornate but one I didn’t recognize. It looked like a piece of correspondence from an Orlesian duchess’s boudoir. Intensely curious, I opened the seal to find a graceful script that struck an instant chord of memory.

 

_Elissa, my dear,_

_It has certainly been a long time! I hope you are well. I hear Vigil’s Keep is almost entirely rebuilt already. I expected nothing less from you. Did you ever plant those roses? But then, I suppose a Warden-Commander is far too busy to worry about such trivial things as flowers!_

_I trust Alistair is still keeping you warm at night, when he’s able to spare time from being a king. You are very lucky -- but you know that. Please tell him I send my love and ask him whether he’s enjoying licking lamp posts all winter long. (I wish I could see his face when you ask him that!)_

_How is life at court? I imagine you dressed in the finest silks -- perhaps a deep rose gown trimmed with pearls, to match your lovely complexion. It must be quite a change from our days traveling around Ferelden, isn’t it? Stomping around in those ugly boots, never feeling quite dry or warm enough … oh, we had such fun, didn’t we? Surely some part of you misses the adventures we had!_

_If so, come meet me in my favorite place in your favorite city in a week’s time. There’s a little matter to discuss that I think will interest you._

_I’m sure I don’t need to mention the need for discretion?_

_Maker watch over you, Andraste guide you._

_\- L_

 

A surge of warmth bloomed in my heart. Oh, Leliana. I hadn't heard a whisper of her in over two years and here she was, writing me as if she hadn't completely disappeared. My inquiries had reached her ears, as I’d hoped, and she had found me.

I ran to track down the young Warden who had delivered the letter to me. “Where is the courier who brought this?”

“In the kitchens, I think,” he said, startled.

But when I got there, the kitchens were empty. Neither the cook nor his helpers had seen any courier. Of course. I smiled to myself. No agent of Leliana’s would be so clumsy as to stick around after delivering a message.

Walking back to my rooms, I considered the careful wording in the letter. There was no hint in it that I had been trying to reach her. The intent was vague and veiled in playfulness. At the same time, the message contained specific references calculated to assure me that the note was genuinely from her — it mentioned things that only she and I knew about. The letter was a warning that she was afraid of its being intercepted. By whom? Why was such secrecy and care necessary? Or was that now simply standard operating procedure for her?

In any case, one thing at least was clear. Her favorite place was the chantry, and my favorite city was Amaranthine, the city I’d saved from the darkspawn attack. I would make my way there in one week, as directed.


	10. Amaranthine

We rested a few days more, and then it was time to keep my appointment in Amaranthine. We would then travel on to Denerim. I wanted Justine to stay at Vigil’s Keep, but she flat out refused. “I pledged my service to the king,” she said. “And in his absence, to protect his representative. That is you, your Highness. I will not be put from your side, not if I can help it.”

“What if I order you to stay here?”

“I am not a Grey Warden, yet,” she said with a smile. “I am still technically under orders from King Alistair. I will continue to guard you as the Queen of Ferelden. I am a royal guard, after all.”

I sighed. “Very well. And to be truthful, we need all the friends we can gather, I suspect. Let’s go, then.”

# 

Amaranthine gleamed in the early afternoon, lightly frosted with a dusting of snow and sparkling. It truly was the jewel of Ferelden. I couldn’t really take credit for saving the city -- it was pure luck that we’d prevailed, in my opinion -- but I’ve never regretted the decision to defend the city. I was proud of how quickly it had recovered from the attack. Say what you will of Fereldans and their rough ways, but we are a hardy people, stubborn and hard to kill.

Aneirin elected to stay in the woods outside the city walls. “I find I don’t much like human settlements,” he said. “Too crowded, and they smell funny to me.”

“Maybe Justine should stay with you, then. She will be safer outside the city. Will you two be warm enough?”

“You forget that I’m a mage. We’ll be plenty warm.” 

“Good. The rest of us will stay tonight at the Crown and Lion, should you need to contact us; and then we will meet again tomorrow evening.” As Arlessa, I could have stayed in the palace at Amaranthine, but I didn’t want to draw that kind of notice. Besides, it would be fun to go to the tavern again.

 

Nate, Oghren, and I stabled our horses and walked towards the entrance tot he city. A young guard nodded to us as we passed through the gate and then did a double take. “But aren't you-?”

I winked at her. “I get that a lot.”

“The Hero of—“

“Nope.”

“The one who —“

“Not me.” I saluted her and turned away quickly. 

“Now you’ve done it,” Oghren muttered as we moved on. “Word’s going to be all over the barracks that the Savior of Amaranthine is back in town before you can say ‘thunderhumper.’”

 #

Nate asked leave to go visit his sister, which I granted. “You don’t even need to ask, Nate. Of course you should go see your family. How old is your nephew now?”

“He’ll be four next month.”

“You must be a proud uncle. Go on, then. Come find us at the Crown and Lion after dinner, at your leisure.”

The markets were bustling with activity. Oghren stopped to inspect a small carving of a griffon. “For the wee sproglet,” he said. “Think she’ll like it?”

“All kids love griffons.” I stroked my finger along a cleverly carved wooden mabari that was the spitting image of Biscuit.

“That’s a cute doggy,” Ogs said. “You should get that for the pike-twirler. You know how he likes playing with dolls.”

I could hear Alistair’s voice protesting in my head. _They’re not dolls, they’re statuettes!_ I smiled to myself. “Maybe I will.”

“Then you can give it to your little sproglet, when you get one of your own. If you want one. I’m still not sure it’s a great idea, but Felsi seems happy.”

I put the carved dog back. “Listen, you want to stay here while I check out the Chantry?”

He wan’t looking at me. He brayed with laughter. “Well, slap my ass and call me Sally.” 

“What?” Then I saw it.

“So that’s how the guard recognized you!”

On the shelf next to the carved bears and nugs was a wooden bust of a head with my features carved on it. “Just perfect,” I muttered. “I’m definitely going to need a better disguise.”

Oghren fondled the carving in a way I didn’t quite like. “I’ll get one of these as a present for the pike-twirler. He can kiss it good night when he goes beddy-bye. I wonder if they can make a body to go with it. Then he can do more than kiss it…”

“Oh, Maker. I’m headed to the Chantry now. I’d better not see you with that carving in your possession.”

“Sure, boss. I’ll be in the Crown and Lion, reacquainting myself with their varieties of ale.”

“Try to keep a low profile. No stories, no bragging, no jokes about… well, you know.”

He pretended to be offended. “Hey, I'm a paragon of discretion and good manners.”

“Take Biscuit with you. He’ll keep you out of trouble. Won’t you, boy?” I ran my hand over the dog’s massive head and he slobbered on my fingers in enthusiastic assent.

Then I headed up the stairs to the Chantry.

 #

It was hushed and chilled inside the Chantry of our Lady Redeemer. I was glad it had suffered so little damage in the battle. I’d heard from townspeople afterwards that many of them had gathered here and prayed all night during the attacks, singing the chant of light. Who knows? Perhaps it helped the victory. I glanced around the hall and saw no one remarkable, just townspeople and a few sisters quietly studying holy scrolls near the altar.

I sat in a pew to wait. 

“You've changed your hair,” said a low voice on my left. 

I turned to see what appeared to be an ordinary Chantry Sister, clad in the demure robes of their order, wearing a modest hood. Her face was in shadow but I would have known that lilting voice anywhere. 

“I have,” I said. I’d cut it short. More practical.

She smiled. “It’s lovely. It suits you. I’ve missed you, Elissa.” Something in her voice made me wonder if she still felt about me as she had years ago. She’d fallen in love with me, for a few months at least; she assured me that it was over and she had moved on, and that she still loved me as a friend, but I thought sometimes I sensed a trace of pain behind her words.

“I’ve missed you too, Lil. Where have you been? What have you been up to?”

The regret was poignant in her voice. “Catching up properly will have to wait for another time, I’m afraid. I only have a little while to talk.”

“What’s the urgency? Has something happened?”

She looked at me. “I should be asking you that. My little birds tell me you’ve been searching high and low for certain records that are kept by Grey Wardens.”

“How? Are you having me followed?”

Her laugh was musical. “You should know better than anyone that I have eyes in many places. I don’t need to follow you to know where you are.” Her tone changed, dropping low and serious. “Are you feeling it? The Calling?”

She was one of the few people I could trust, and one of the handful outside the Order who understood the Grey Warden rituals. “I don’t know,” I said, and my voice was bleak. “I hear a voice every night in my dreams, pounding at my ears.”

“It is too soon,” she murmured. “This cannot be the Maker’s will.”

“I don’t know what to do,” I said. In front of Leliana, I didn’t need to be the strong, fearless leader anymore. I could just be me. Weak and flawed and scared. She, like Alistair, had seen all my faults and still loved me. “I’m not ready to go to the Deep Roads, not yet. And I never gave Alistair an heir. I want to have a child, Leliana. I don’t know if it’s even possible.” I dropped my head in my hands.

Leliana’s voice was warm with sympathy. “My news pertains to that, my friend.You asked me to find someone for you — the Grey Warden who had been cleansed of the taint.”

No one outside the Grey Wardens was supposed to know about the taint in our blood, and how it worked, but of course she did. She was the collector of secrets. And besides, she had spent too much time with me and Alistair not to guess at the truth. 

My heart accelerated. “Yes. Have you found her?”

Leliana smiled. “She is in Orlais, my friend. She is alive in Montsimmard. I do not know her name, but I know she is a mage, probably in the Circle. You should look up the Grey Warden registry in Montsimmard for her name. I’m sure they will have records of her, although I doubt they will openly speak of the incident.”

“She is no longer a Grey Warden?”

“No. She was cleansed of the taint and apparently could not retake the Joining.”

“How? What happened?” There was a roaring in my ears. What could have happened in her blood that prevented the ritual from working once more? Something had utterly transformed her. I’d never heard of such a thing.

“I do not know, exactly, but whatever it was occurred over twenty years ago. There was a secret expedition to the Deep Roads, undertaken by the Commander of the Grey Wardens at the time. This former Warden of yours was a member of the party. As far as I can find out, it was during this incident that she experienced the cleansing. But I do not know how it was done. You would have to find her and ask.”

“Then it is possible!” My knuckles were white as I clutched the wooden back of the pew. “I knew it!”

“I hope that is so.”

I felt like crying and laughing and throwing my arms around Leliana. “You’re an angel.”

“There is one more secret I can share with you, and this one is a true secret, known only to a very few.”

“Yes?”

“She bore a child.”

My heart skipped a beat and then raced on ahead, pounding. “When was this?”

“After she joined the Grey Wardens, but before she left. My theory is that she conceived while she was on the expedition.”

“She conceived and bore a child while she had the taint?” I could hardly get the words out. My desperate hopes seemed on the verge of becoming true, and I could hardly bear the rush of joy.

“I believe so, although I am not certain of the exact dates.” She reached out for my hand and pressed it warmly with hers. “Be cautious, dear friend,” she said quietly. “This piece of knowledge was kept secret for many years for a reason. It may be inaccurate. I pray I am not bringing you false hope. But I thought you should know.”

“Thank you,” I said. I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed it in reverence. “Where is the child now?”

“I don’t know. I can try to find out if you think it important. He or she would be about your age now, I think.” 

“And the father? Was he a Grey Warden as well?”

“I have no idea. Mostly likely it was someone who accompanied the party into the Deep Roads — or someone they met with on the way.”

I considered. Most like a Grey Warden then. I hoped. Because if two Grey Wardens could have a baby — then so could Alistair and I. In theory. I tried to calm myself and think clearly. “My first priority should be confirming the information with the Wardens in Montsimmard and seeing if I can discover the name of the former Warden. Then I can track her down at the Circle. As for the child… born to someone with the taint… there is no official record of this, that I’m aware of, although there are rumors that it happens.” Grey Wardens who had children often had them in secret, and always gave them up, so confirmation was difficult to track down. “Does the child have the taint? Did the father? I have so many questions. It’s miraculous.” 

I could hear the smile in her voice. “It may be a miracle, indeed. If I come across any more information, I will be sure to pass it on. And I have one last piece of information for you.”

“You are too generous! You’ve given me so much to hope for already.”

“I regret that this last may not exactly be… welcome news. But I thought you should know. A person known as the Scornful Sorceress has surfaced in the court of Empress Celene.”

“What kind of name is the Scornful Sorceress?”

“It is amusing, isn’t it?” Yet Leliana’s smile was tight. “It does describe someone we know very well. Someone who disappeared after the battle with the Archdemon.”

“It does, indeed.” I chewed my lip. Could it be that Morrigan had emerged from wherever she’d been, and was in Orlais? Was her son — Alistair’s son — still with her?

Leliana watched my face with a smile playing on her lips. “I see this is valuable to you.” She paused. “There is a favor you could do for me, in return, if you’re so inclined.”

I should have known that she would not give me all this for free. That was the way of the bard, the way of the game she played. I didn’t resent that. She’d given me hope for the first time. That was worth everything. “Of course, Lil. I’ll do anything within my power.”

“I appreciate that. It is about the Chancellor. She is very vocal about her suspicions of an Orlesian conspiracy.”

“She’s vocal about a lot of things,” I said.

“I have no doubt. But this particular issue is causing a rift that could adversely affect relations between Orlais and Ferelden at a delicate time. The Empress Celene wants to preserve the peace; other nobles in her court are not so moderate in their views. In particular, her cousin the Grand Duke would like nothing better than an excuse to make war and reclaim the territories Orlais lost. It would take just one whisper in the right ear, one well-placed dagger, to nudge the Empire into war.”

“But that’s exactly what Anora is trying to prevent.” At least, I thought so. I wanted to think so.

“Is it? If that is so, she is doing a very good job of stirring up the banns, which in turn is causing talk in Orlais of a Ferelden invasion. Suspicion is growing on both sides.”

“What? But that’s ridiculous. We hardly have an army, let alone one large enough to stage an invasion of Orlais!”

“I know that; but the Grand Duke and his supporters will say whatever suits them. They say, for example, that Anora has convinced King Alistair to raise a formidable force by looking for allies abroad. Why is he in Kirkwall, if not to ask the Champion for aid against Orlais? Or so they say. And of course his consort leads the Ferelden Wardens, which means the Wardens will join battle. There are even rumors that the king has allied with radical groups of apostate mages who wish to burn down the Circles. There is talk that the king would help them do so in exchange for help against Orlais.”

“Alistair is no great supporter of the Circles, but he’s not a rebel. He has always upheld stability and order. No can believe that he would destroy them!” 

“Oh, my dear. You would be amazed at what people can believe when it suits their interests.” Leliana sighed. “Many compromises were made to fight the Blight. The people are reassessing those decisions now. They are frightened, Elissa.”

She had a point. I remembered what Bann Loren had said. “So what would you like me to do? I can’t imprison Anora again without Alistair’s approval, and he’s not here. And I am not sure he would agree, without more proof.”

“Well, once you have your heir, Alistair won’t have much need for Anora, will he? In any case, I don’t ask you to do anything so drastic against the Chancellor. It wouldn’t do to tip our hand, and we are in a complicated situation here. The balance of power sits on the edge of a knife and it must be preserved, at all costs. If you could exert your influence and calm these fears within Ferelden, it would go a long way towards preserving the peace. Talk to the banns and reassure them. Try to convince Anora to turn her attention elsewhere than Orlais. Surely there are bandits and darkspawn enough to keep her busy. Remember this: fear spreads more quickly than the Blight.”

“Thank you for the advice. But I don’t understand, why is this a favor for you? Who are you working for?”

“I am a humble servant of the Chantry. My aim is to maintain peace and justice.”

I wanted to believe her, but I had a feeling that this Leliana who sat next to me now was subtly different from the one I’d known during the Blight. More calculating. More cynical. 

The Blight had changed us all, I supposed. “I will do my best to persuade her.”

“I knew I could count on you.” She put a hand on my arm. “And now I must go.” She leaned in and I got a faint whiff of her scent, the light perfume of a mountain flower mixed with holy incense and the slight tang of leather. She brushed her lips lightly on my cheek. “It’s so good to see you, my dear. I hope it won’t be another three years before we meet again.”

And then she was gone, and I was left alone in the Chantry hall with my own thoughts.

 #

It was deep evening by the time I felt calm enough to go find Oghren and Nate at the tavern. Thousands of thoughts were fighting in my head, sparking a riot of emotions that I couldn’t quite sort through. The mage in Montsimmard was the key, I knew it. She’d cleansed the taint and had a child. I couldn’t simply write to Montsimmard this time — they would never tell me the truth. I had to go there and question Clarel in person about this secret expedition to the Deep Roads. Who went? Who survived? What happened? I had to talk to the former Grey Warden and find out what she knew. A great sense of urgency overwhelmed me. Twenty years ago was a long time for a Warden. Those who might remember the expedition might go to their Calling soon — if they hadn’t already. I had to act quickly.

The streets were wet and dark but full of life. I was glad to see that they were not empty. The city seemed to have recovered its spirit, and then some. I took the long way back to the inn, enjoying the winter’s chill, mingling among the citizens who were going home or heading to the tavern or just taking a stroll, meeting friends. The cheerful bustle gave me comfort. In spite of all the politics and darkspawn, the people find a way to survive, experiencing love and joy and humor as much as pain and grief. I imagined what it would be like to have a normal life here, as Nate’s sister Delilah did. Married to a merchant, looking after a child, without the burden of making decisions for an entire nation. What was that like? What would it be like to have dinner with your family every night, bickering over bedtimes, tucking the exhausted children into bed with kisses on their innocent foreheads, not a word about war or Council decisions or the Blight…? Tears prickled at my eyes and I shut down this train of thought. Pointless to wish for something I could never have.

The Crown and Lion was downright rowdy, and a welcome distraction from my gloominess. I pushed through the crowd towards the back where I spotted the dwarf. Ogs had a massive head start on me — not that I would actually try to go head to head with him in a drinking match. Biscuit nearly knocked over a table in his eagerness to greet me, and I had to spend a little extra silver to smooth things over with the barkeep. I pulled up a chair near the fire and sat down with my drink.

“Everything all right, boss? You look like you dropped your favorite hammer in a steaming pile of darkspawn guts.”

I tried on a smile for size. “Nothing a pint can’t fix.”

“Heh, that’s the spirit! So, what next? Chase down some smugglers? A one-way suicide mission to steal a high dragon egg?”

“How about, go find a mage in Orlais?”

Ogs pulled a face. “I’d rather smash Hurlock heads in the Deep Roads.”

“Well, you might get your wish. Funny how so many of our journeys seem to take us there.”

“Not that funny. All Warden journeys end there, eventually. All the more reason to live it up now while we can.”

Nate came to find us in the common room. He looked rested and happy, if that were possible. The lines around his mouth had relaxed, at any rate. “On to Denerim tomorrow, then? I’d like to leave early, if possible. A storm threatens.”

Ogs said, “The boss wants to go to Orlais. Or the Deep Roads.”

“Orlais?” Nate pulled up a chair and sat. “What’s in Orlais?”

“Nothing,” I said. “You shouldn’t come. Go back to Vigil’s Keep, Nate.”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “Is that an order, Warden-Commander?”

“It could be.”

“You’ll have to try harder than that to get rid of me. I promised I’d keep you safe.”

“Promised Anora that, did you? I’m touched.”

Nate took a gulp of his wine. “What _is_ the plan, Commander? Are we not going to Denerim?”

I shook my head. “I wasn’t joking before when I said I wanted to go to Orlais.”

He crossed his arms. “The Warden-Commander can not go to Orlais, not right now. The weather slows our travel, and the border is unsecured.”

He was sounding like Alistair. And I had promised my king I wouldn’t. But that was before I had the best, most concrete lead I’d had years. Surely Alistair would understand why I had to go. Wouldn’t he? “I believe the dangers of Orlesian incursions and instability are exaggerated.”

“I agree. Nevertheless, it would be grossly irresponsible of the leader of the Grey Wardens to abandon her post.”

_Abandon my post?_ That’s not what I was doing, was it? Maybe not, but I knew Nate was right: leaving Ferelden now amounted to something like abandonment. I couldn’t go to Orlais, even though Leliana’s intelligence was too good to ignore. I’d have to wait until Alistair came home to watch over things while I traveled out of the country. And I had to find a way to neutralize Anora before she did any more damage to morale.

“You’re right,” I said heavily. “We’ll stick to the original plan. We will wait for the king’s return in Denerim.”


	11. Anora

We’d been two days on the Pilgrim’s Path, and I was cold and tired. I looked forward to being back in the Royal Palace, and the hot baths and comforting food that waited us there. A fresh change of clothes might be nice, too. Amethyne would no doubt scold me for pushing myself too hard.

“Commander.” Nate’s sharp voice brought me out of my daze.

I blinked. Denerim lay ahead, the walls of the palace surfacing over the trees. Home.

“I bet Anora’s set up a surprise party!” Oghren said.

Nate reached for his bow. “Could be. Watch your back.”

Justine said nothing, but sat up straighter in the saddle. Her jaw was set in a firm line and she held her chin up high.

There was no way Aneirin was going to be able to stand being in a city like Denerim. I could tell he was nervous just thinking about it. I told him to wait for us. “You can make camp in that copse of trees you saw in my dream, when you came with me into the Fade. It’s south of here, on the other side of the river. I’ll send someone to you with a message if I need to. Otherwise, be nearby, and stay safe. I don’t know how long this will take.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Aneirin said. “I think I’ll be far safer out here with the bears and wolves than you’ll be in the palace.”

I had a bad feeling that he was right. Suddenly the hot bath I was anticipating lost its appeal. I pulled my cloak tighter around my throat.

 #

A group of guards met us at the gates. “Greetings, Warden-Commander,” said the Captain. “Welcome home. The Chancellor requests your presence in the palace right away.” He looked at my companions. “Fidele is to accompany you. General Oghren, Senior Warden Howe, your presence is not required.”

“We go where the Commander goes,” Nate said.

My nerves were jangling but I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t very well start brawling in the streets. Besides, I could handle Anora. “Very well, Captain. Lead on.”

# 

Once we got to the palace, we were taken to the throne room, where there were more guards collected than I’d ever seen in that hall. I half-expected Anora to be sitting on the throne itself when we arrived, but she was far too clever for that. She stood on the dais, by the side of the king’s throne. Exactly where she should be. Prim and proper, looking in control of every little aspect of the operation.

“Your Highness,” she said. “I’m glad you’ve returned. I’m afraid we have a situation on our hands.”

“We certainly do,” I said. The voice had started battering at me and I gritted my teeth. When Aneirin was not in close proximity, my protection against the Old God’s chanting weakened. I walked past her and sat on the throne that was next to Alistair’s. My throne. I tried to be as regal as possible even in the dirt and grime. It wasn’t easy. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what’s been going on here?”

Anora was as calm as a summer day. She had the advantage of having bathed recently, too. “The woman known as Justine Fidele, lately of the king’s guard, is accused of being a traitor. We must imprison her immediately.”

I looked at Justine, flanked by Nate and Oghren, standing straight without a single tremor. Her face was carved from stone. I turned back to Anora. “What are the specifics of the accusation?”

Anora waved her hand. “The Captain of the Guard will explain. Captain?”

He stepped forward. “She has stolen the king’s personal correspondence as well as several other documents of state importance with the intent to sell them to the Orlesians.”

“And the evidence?”

“Several witnesses, your Highness, will attest to the incident. Subsequently, a group of guards attempted to apprehend her, and she resisted arrest, doing grievous harm to several of my men. We managed to recover the stolen documents.” He held up a battered leather courier’s pouch.

I held out my hand. “Let me see.”

He hesitated. Anora nodded and he handed them to me.

That was ominous. Since when did the Captain need to check with Anora to follow an order from the Queen?

I opened the folio. There were several letters, stamped with the king’s personal seal. The letters were for me, and I resisted the urge to tear them open immediately. There were other documents there, as well. “What are these?” Drafts of treaties. Records of council meetings. “Justine? Can you explain these?”

She was trembling now and as pale as milk. “I have never seen those papers before,” she said. 

“Oh, of course you haven’t,” Anora said. 

“I swear on Andraste’s holy sword that those documents were not in the pouch when I was given it by the king.”

“The documents could have easily been planted in the pouch,” I said. “It proves nothing.”

“That is for the King to decide,” Anora said. “My Captain believes that Fidele used the personal correspondence as cover, so that she could smuggle the documents that she was sent to Denerim to retrieve. Whatever the truth, it is clear that there is cause to detain her until an investigation can be completed and a trial arranged.”

My head was pounding and waves of nausea gripped my insides. The voice sang in my ears, sweet and sick. “There is no reason for her to be in the custody of the Royal Guards. She will be held by the Grey Wardens until we get to the bottom of this.”

Nate stepped forward. “Chancellor, your Highness, if I may. Serrah Fidele has proved herself a staunch ally. General Oghren and I can testify to her courage during an ambush, wherein she saved the life of the Queen, risking her own. She fought most valiantly. The investigation should proceed, but I do not believe Serrah Fidele is a danger to any of us. I will personally vouch for her and keep her in my custody.”

“Your loyalty to your companions is commendable, Senior Warden,” Anora said in her high, imperious voice. “But my decision stands. The safety of Ferelden compels me to act. This matter is not under the jurisdiction of the Grey Wardens. It is a case of Fereldan internal security. The authority of the crown overrules that of the Wardens. Guards, convey the prisoner to the dungeons.”

“Wait!” I stood up. All eyes were on me. “You will not take her.” I hardly knew what I was doing. I didn’t have a plan. I could have invoked the Right of Conscription, but I recoiled at that — the chance that Justine might not survive the Joining was too horrible to contemplate. I couldn’t think of an alternative. I only knew that if I let Anora take Justine, that was a step towards some victory that wasn’t yet clear to me. I had to stop it.

“Yes, your Highness?” Anora stared me down.

My face felt hot and cold and the same time. “She is not a traitor,” I said. My voice sounded strange and unsteady. “I am the Queen of Ferelden as well as Warden-Commander. I speak for the crown in the absence of the king, Chancellor. Perhaps you have forgotten your place.” My knees started to shake. My control was shattering. “You will not take Fidele prisoner. She will remain with the Grey Wardens. That is the will of the crown.” Suddenly the dam broke and the voice overwhelmed me. I put my head in my hands, biting down hard to prevent my screaming.

From far away, I heard shouts: Oghren and Nate. Someone’s hand supported my elbow. Then Anora’s cool voice: “The Warden-Commander is not well. Take her to her room.”

 #

I was drowning. I was angry. I shouted back at the voice: “Stop!”

The voice relented. _Find me and wake me._

My rage was stronger than the voice, for once. “I refuse!” I shouted. 

_ Find me, human child. Free me. I offer you a gift in exchange. _

“I want no gift from you, demon!”

_ We are in the Deep Roads. Listen, and you will hear us. Come to me. Dragon of Night, Lusacan. In the Deep Roads.  _

Then the voice’s tide rose to a pitch that pierced my ears and I couldn’t hear any more words.


	12. Chancellor Mac Tir

I woke. Nate and Oghrenand Biscuit were in my room with me. I reached out to grab Oghren’s shoulder, trying to pull myself up. “We have to stop her. Maker knows what she’ll do to Justine to further her own ends.”Biscuit leaped onto the bed and held me down, licking at my face.

“Steady,” said Nate. “You’re in no condition to get out of bed.”

“Worse news, boss,” said Oghren gruffly. “There’s a group of Templars from the Circle coming here.”

“What do they want?”

Nate sighed. “They have apparently received word that you are traveling with an apostate mage and would like an audience with you.”

“This is also Anora’s work,” I said through gritted teeth. “How long have I been out? We have to rescue Justine.”

“You’re mad.” Nate’s eyes were pale. “You would directly challenge the Denerim guard and the authority of the crown? You risk the credibility of the Wardens, and your own freedom.”

“Anora’s already challenged me, Nate. Or did you miss that scene in the throne room? She reduced me to a sick, hysterical woman. She’s trying to discredit me.”

He flushed, his mouth set in a tight line. “Justine will come to no harm with the guard. Let them hold her here in Denerim until she gets a fair hearing. Meanwhile, you may then petition her for her release. Through the official channels.”

“How long would that take? No, I can’t risk it. I can’t take this insult lying down, don’t you see that? It weakens my position, and by extension, Alistair’s. I could to invoke the Right of Conscription,” I mused. “Effective immediately.” I had no intention of letting Justine go through the Joining. Not any time soon, at any rate. But the Right of Conscription would at least allow me to take her to safety. “Justine wants to join the Wardens, after all. Let me up. I’ve got work to do.”

#

With Amethyne’s help I managed to wash and dress hastily so I was at least presentable. In the mirror I stared at my hollow cheeks, the dark circles under my eyes. Lines on my brow, and tiny threads of silver in my hair, at the temples. I looked older than my twenty-five years. I looked like a weary war veteran, with the haunted look that many had. When had that happened?

Anora was in the council chambers, meeting with a group of Banns. When I entered, they all stood. I noticed that Anora was slow to get to her feet. “Ah, your Highness. What a surprise to see you here. You usually take so little interest in the governing of the Bannorn.”

I let the barb go past. “I need to talk to you about Justine Fidele.”

“What is it you wish to say? You may speak in front of our Banns. The government should not debate or act in secret, don’t you agree?”

“Very well. I invoke the Right of Conscription for Fidele.”

I saw the faintest smile flit across her face, and I realized with a sudden stone in my heart that Anora had set this all up perfectly.

She turned slowly to the group of Fereldan nobles with an air of much aggrieved patience. “Do you see, ladies and gentlemen, my concerns? The Grey Wardens continue to overstep their bounds. Not only do they steal recruits to their order who might have served in our army, but now they even invite criminals accused of treason against the crown and arm them with training and weapons.”

I looked around the room. I couldn’t believe it. The Banns’ eyes were almost unanimously hostile. Even Bann Loren would not meet my eye.

Anora went on. “And what happens to these recruits? What happened to Ser Orlis Locke, of Gwaren? His body was returned to his family without a scratch. He died nobly, it was said; but how?”

“Foul play,” said a Bann I didn’t recognize. He looked daggers at me. “Locke was my cousin.”

My blood froze.

Anora shook her head sadly. “As I was telling the Banns, Commander, if there were to be an invasion, I doubt I can trust your support in defending Ferelden. You are too wrapped up in your Grey Warden concerns.”

I started to shake and had to clench my hands to stop it. “This is nonsense! There won’t be an invasion, Anora. You know that as well as I do.”

“No? Why are you so sure, your Highness? Could it be because you have already weakened Ferelden defenses and invited the enemy into the bosom of our nation, into the Arling of Amaranthine itself? Perhaps you have set the stage so well that a military invasion by Orlais is hardly necessary. They could just walk into Denerim, invited by the Queen.”

“Are you mad? What motivation would I have for such an irrational act? Are you truly accusing me of treason?”

“No, Commander. I am accusing you of being a Grey Warden.” She drew herself up. “While you’ve been closeted with the Grey Wardens, I’ve been making a tour of the Banns. I’ve listened to their concerns.” She lifted a piece of parchment. “I have here a draft of legislation that will once again expel the Grey Wardens from Ferelden unless they pledge an oath of fealty to the crown. I have the support of many Banns on this, Commander. _You_ pose the greatest threat to Fereldan security since the Blight.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “The king would never agree.”

Bann Esmerelda said, “He will have to, or risk open rebellion by the Banns.”

Bann Wulf said, “King Alistair is our king because we supported him in the Landsmeet; we can withdraw that support. The Chancellor has shown that she takes our concerns seriously. Perhaps it is time for a new Landsmeet.”

I couldn’t speak. I stood transfixed with horror.

Another Bann said, “We know our history, your Highness. The Grey Wardens attempted to meddle with the ruling of the country once before, staging a rebellion against King Arland. What’s to stop you from doing so again? You wish to control the crown, and exerting influence through the king is as good a way as any.”

The voice roared in my ears. I shook my head to try to clear it. “We can work together on this, Anora. We both want Ferelden to be safe.”

“You Wardens only care about the Blight. I care about _all_ threats to the country.” Suddenly she softened. “But I am tiring you, am I not? You are ill.”

I gritted my teeth. “I am not ill.” I felt as though I might vomit.

“But I can see that you are.” The pitying look on her face was almost convincing. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Commander is under great stress. She is clearly not in her right mind, or she would never suggest freeing a prisoner accused of treason.”

“I’m fine!” I shouted, but the voice hummed throbbed in my head.

“Guard, we need a healer,” Anora said with impeccable calm. “Her Highness must go to her chambers and rest.”

#

She’d out-maneuvered me, and I was fuming. How could I have been so stupid? I paced my room, trying to push away the pain in my head. Amethyne tried to bring me a soothing broth but I snarled at her. And then immediately apologized and took the broth. It was simple and comforting.

“How long has Anora been like this?”

Amethyne gave me a helpless look. “I do not have much access to her. I had noticed a great deal of activity since you left, your Highness. Meetings with various banns, late nights working in her office. I should have sent word to you. I never suspected…”

“It’s all right, Amie. You had no way of knowing, and I was hard to reach besides. It’s my fault. I should have paid more attention.”

Amie looked miserable. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I need you to get a message out to my favorite picnic spot. A companion of mine is staying there — an elf named Aneirin. Can you do that?”

“Yes, your Highness. I will.”

“Be careful.” I wrote out a message. I hoped none of the guards would think twice about a humble elven servant heading out to gather wood in the forest. I held her shoulders. She was so young, yet determination lit her eyes. She reminded me so much of her mother in that moment. Iona had died defending Lady Landra. Courageous and honorable to the last. Not like me, the coward who ran away with Duncan. “Good luck. And thank you, Amie.”

#

That evening, Anora came to visit me. I have no idea how I managed not to throttle her.

“What are you playing at, Anora?”

“Playing? This is not a game, your Highness.”

“Could have fooled me,” I muttered.

“I am doing what I have to,” she said. “Ferelden is my concern. You show none for your people.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it.”

She crossed her arms, tapped an elegant finger musingly. “Do you remember Ned Ferrin?”

“Ned? You mean the boy who stopped Oghren on our way outside the city?”

“The Captain has informed me that he has deserted his post, intending to run away to Vigil’s Keep to become a Warden. Because the Warden-Commander encouraged him to.”

“That’s not what happened. We told him to wait a year. I never encouraged him.”

“You steal away the soldiers that we need for Ferelden’s defense, in order to train them alongside our enemies, the Orlesians.”

“Because we must all work together to stop the Blight! The Orlesians are not our enemy.”

“And if there is no Blight?”

“We remain vigilant,” I said, but the words sounded hollow, even to me.

“Do you know what happened to Ned Ferrin, Elissa?” Her voice was very quiet now. “He left Denerim, traveling alone to Vigil’s Keep. He was killed by bandits just outside the city. I consider his death on your head.”

She left me alone.

#

I sagged onto the floor. I embraced the voice, wallowed in it. I was no leader. I couldn’t do this. I should just take myself off to the Deep Roads. I deserved no better.

#

At some point in the night, I awoke in a cold sweat. Biscuit licked my hand and I spent a few minutes luxuriating in his warmth. And yet, in spite of the chill, my room seemed terribly stuffy. I slipped out of bed, pulling on a wool robe, and poked at the fire. I felt restless. I had to do something. I just didn’t know what. There was a knot in my stomach, a tight bundle of pain and anxiety. I padded out,,telling Biscuit to stay put. I didn’t want to wake anyone and cause more concern over my health than there already was.

My steps seemed to turn of their own accord towards the library. Books had always been my comfort, and one of the most wonderful things about the palace was its impressive library. Whoever had started the collection was a true scholar. Perhaps a book would keep me company until the morning.

Anora’s room lay at the end of the hall. I had a foolish notion to go there and… attempt to intimidate her, persuade her, Maker knows what I was thinking. But what good would it do? I was about to turn away towards the stair when I caught a glimpse of a hooded figure coming up the stairs on the other side of the hall. I stepped instinctively into shadow, pressing my back against the wall, and watched. The figure knocked once on Anora’s door and slipped in.

How could I not? I went to Anora’s door and placed my ear at the keyhole.

I recognized the speaker. Nate. “Anora, please listen to reason.”

“It is late, Senior Warden Howe. I doubt you have anything new to say, but say it quickly.”

Nate’s voice was as I’d never heard it. Soft, pleading. “You cannot believe Elissa is guilty of anything. She is not a traitor.”

“Your trust in her is misplaced.”

“If you cannot trust her, then trust me.” His voice broke.

“I do trust you, Nate.” Anora’s voice, by contrast, was perfectly controlled. “But you have been under her influence for too long. You can no longer see clearly.”

“That is not true,” he said. “She has her flaws, but she is not working against the crown, or against Ferelden.”

“She may not intend to, but her actions damage us nonetheless. And what of the Warden’s curse she suffers from? It is clearly affecting her judgement.”

 _Nate told Anora about the Calling?_ A burst of rage flamed through my veins. I’d trusted him. I’d sworn him to secrecy.

“I don’t believe it is.” Nate’s voice was low and tightly constrained.

“I understand that she is your Commander, and you are a very loyal man. But when the legislation is passed, all Wardens who do not swear their allegiance to the crown will be immediately expelled. The Warden-Commander will be declared unfit to command.” Her voice grew smoother now, gentle and almost sweet. “With my support, you could become the new Commander of the Grey, Nate, and lead the loyal Wardens in Ferelden. Your family would once again have control of your ancestral lands, the Arling of Amaranthine.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “I’m counting on you, my dear Nathaniel. I hope I can depend on your fealty.”

I didn’t hear his answer. The bile choked my throat and I stumbled back, away from the door.

My hatred for Howe overwhelmed even the voice of the Old God. _Like father, like son._

 


	13. Rebels

Back in my room, I reviewed my options. Beneath my searing fury with Nathaniel Howe roiled an uneasiness that threatened to give way to panic. Anora had laid plans against me. The Banns were on her side. She had hired the Captain of the Guards herself — he would not move against her. And Alistair was away for several weeks more at least.

I was alone.

I did not know what the Chancellor’s plans were, but I knew this: I couldn’t stay to find out. She could place me under house arrest, or claim I was ill and keep me locked in the infirmary. Whatever she did would no doubt undermine my authority and possibly even threaten my personal reputation. Anora had turned the palace — my home — into a prison.

I had to get out of here.

I hurriedly ransacked my room for my old traveling leathers, plain but high-quality, the ones I’d worn when traveling during the Fifth Blight, when Alistair and I had been raw recruits. How many times had Amethyne wanted to get rid of them? Now I was grateful my sentimentality had prevented her. They smelled musty, and they were a bit tighter than I remembered, but they felt as comforting as a second skin.

Biscuit watched me work with puzzlement clearly on his face. He tilted his head to one side and looked at me as if to ask, _We’re going out? Now, in the middle of the night?_ I smiled at scratched his chin. He’d follow me anywhere.“Don’t worry, boy,” I said. “You’re coming with me.”

But where was that going to be, exactly?

I’d decide later. I had to organize my gear. I pulled my old trunk out from under the bed. It contained my treasures — Duncan’s weapons. I’d found them on the battlefield at Ostagar, when Alistair and I had avenged his death and that of King Cailin. The longsword and dagger were worn and plain-looking, but when I touched them, the weapons warmed to my hands as if welcoming me. They were imbued with powerful magic and they’d seen me through many a tight spot. I strapped them on.

My sword Starfang hung on the wall in its ornate scabbard, on display. I gently lowered it and checked the blade. The starmetal shone bright as moonlight, and the blade hummed with magical energy. I couldn’t leave it behind — and besides, if I got Justine out, she’d need a weapon.

At the bottom of the trunk I found my old lock picks, my sleeping powder, and my vials of poisons. I also found my emergency stash of gold in a plain wool pouch. I stowed all the items in my pack and shouldered it. I grabbed my cloak. “Come on, boy,” I told Biscuit, smoothing his ears down.

He cocked his head and whined.

“Well, first we have to get Justine out. She’d be in the dungeons. And then…” I paused. We could take a ship to meet Alistair in Kirkwall, rendezvous with him and his entourage, and return in force to Denerim to forestall Anora. But that felt like running to Alistair for rescue, which was embarrassing; and dragging him into the middle of this didn’t seem like the best idea for maintaining his status as king. Or I could go to Vigil’s Keep, gather the Wardens, and come back to the palace. No, that could potentially spark armed conflict in the streets. I couldn’t risk that.

The chiming voice that had been nothing but a dull murmur until now spiked sharply and I clutched my temples in pain, falling to my knees on the floor. Biscuit made a mew of concern and licked my face.

I felt a pulsing tugging, as if my body was being pulled by an invisible whirlpool. Images of massive, dark caverns flashed before me. The Deep Roads? But a part of them I’d never seen before. Then beyond, I saw a massive fortress rising out of an unforgiving landscape of red dust.

Weisshaupt. Why? It made no sense.

“No,” I said through gritted teeth. “I won’t do it.” I wouldn’t be controlled by the voice; I had to resist it.

I breathed in and out for several breaths until I gained control over my body and my mind once more. When I stood, my knees felt weak but they didn’t shake.

The best thing to do might be to disappear. Take myself out of the equation, as far as Anora was concerned, and solve the problem of this voice inside me. Until I did that, I would remain compromised and weak.

I nodded to Biscuit. “Stay quiet, Biscuit. We’re going hunting.”

#

It was not exactly easy to gain entrance to the dungeons, disabling guards I needed to on the way, but my skills had only gotten better with time and I managed to get through without raising the alarm. I found Justine’s cell with little effort.

“Justine!” I whispered. The doors had barred openings in them through which the guards could communicate with the prisoners.

“Highness? Is that you?” She sounded tired, but alert.

“Yes. Stand back.” I worked on the lock and had it open in a few breaths.

“What are you doing, your Highness?” In the dark, her face was nothing more than wide, concerned eyes.

“We’re leaving.” I rummaged in my pack and pulled out the extra cloak I’d packed. “Here,” I said, tossing it to her. “Put this on. And stay quiet.”

She shook her head. “I can’t leave.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve been arrested, your Highness. I would become a fugitive if I ran away.”

“Your arrest was illegal. I refuse to let Anora get away with it.”

“But—“

“Listen to me, Justine. If we let this stand, then we legitimize Anora’s authority over mine. We can’t have that happen. It gives her an opening to increase the bounds of her power.”

“You Highness, there is nothing I want more than to support you, as your loyal subject. But fleeing in this way makes me a criminal. And you. At the very least, it makes us appear guilty when we are not. We should stay and fight this, legitimately.”

She was right; but I had no time for due process. “Please, Justine. I’m running out of time. And for what I need to do, I need your help.” I unstrapped Starfang from my back and held the blade out to her. “I don’t have anyone else.”

Reluctantly, she took the weapon. “Very well,” she said quietly.

I nodded. “I appreciate it. We’ll get you armor and a shield later. Follow me.”

I peeped out into the corridor; all was quiet. We stole back up the stairs. From here, it was a simple matter to find the side-passage that I’d used on past occasions when I’d wanted to come and go from my rooms to the kitchens without a fuss. Two yawning soldiers stood guard, whom I dispatched quickly with a sleeper hold and a sharp tap to the head.

“Sorry about that, girl,” I muttered, as I gently lowered one body to the ground. “You’re going to have one hell of a headache when you wake up, but I hope you won’t get into too much trouble.”

Justine shook her head in disapproval but didn’t say anything.

In the kitchens, two elven servants lay sleeping by the hearth. I dusted them with a pinch of sleeping powder to make sure they stayed asleep, and then stocked up on provisions. Apples, bread and cheese, dried meat, and some biscuits. I filled another pack and handed it to Justine.

Justine whispered, “What about the general?” and it took me a moment to realize she was talking about Oghren.

“I can’t get him involved in this,” I said. “He deserves better. We’ll leave him be.” I knew Ogs would be furious at me for it, but it was better for his reputation; I didn’t want him to be my accomplice.

“And the Senior Warden?”

 _Let him burn_.

I paused, one hand on the door the led out of the kitchen and into the palace grounds. “You’re right, Justine. What about Howe? He needs to account for his betrayal.”

Justine looked ghostly pale but did not say anything. She followed quickly behind me, footsteps almost as quiet as mine.

I backtracked through the residences, stepping over the still-sleeping guards, and found Nate’s room easily. The door was unlocked. Justine hung back, uncertain, but I grabbed her elbow and pulled her inside. I didn’t want any wandering guards to catch her in the hall.

I stood still for a few seconds, holding my breath so I could hear Howe’s and so my eyes could adjust to the dark. There he was, on the bed, inhaling and exhaling gently. Asleep. The traitor.

_I should slit his throat._

I drew Duncan’s dagger quietly and in one leap I landed on the man, my right knee pressed against his chest and my dagger at his throat.

His eyes flew open and his body jerked, but I stayed put. “Elissa!”

“So, Nate. I suppose you and Anora have it all figured out. You’ll lead the Wardens and she’ll take the country, and Alistair and I can just go traipse off into the Deep Roads, can we?”

His gasp was somewhat strangled by the weapon I pressed against his windpipe.

“You were talking to Anora the whole time, it seems. Sending ravens back and forth in secret, weren’t you? How could you tell her about the Calling? You fed her everything she most wanted, and she used it against me.”

“I didn’t tell her,” he croaked.

“Liar,” I said, but I eased on the dagger. I wasn’t going to kill him. I wanted to, but I would never slaughter an unarmed person. That was Rendon Howe’s way, not mine. Justice would be served to Nathaniel Howe in another way. “You betrayed me, Nate. And I will see you pay for it.”

He made no attempt to move and his eyes stayed unwavering on mine. “I swear on my mother’s grave, I never told her you were hearing the Calling. She asked me to watch over you, saying she feared for your safety.I took her at her word. Elissa, I swear to you, I am guilty only of misjudging the extent of Anora’s ambition. I only meant to keep you safe.”

“So you told her I was ill?”

“Yes. I believed you needed healing from Circle mages. I was trying to help you.”

“ _Help_ me?” I pressed my knee deeper into his chest and he gasped from the pain. “You called me your commander; you said I was your leader; you made me believe that it meant something to you. _This_ is how you prove your loyalty to me?”

“You are my commander, Elissa. I would follow you into the maws of the Archdemon gladly.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” A ghost of a bitter smile touched his face for a fleeting moment. “Even when I was trying to kill you.”

“Well, I’m not going to kill you.” I slid off him and stood next to his bed, sheathing the dagger. “Thanks to your precious Chancellor, Justine and I are now rebels and possibly branded as traitors. We’re leaving the palace. I won’t tell you where, so you won’t have to lie for me.”

He sat up gingerly, rubbing his throat with one hand. “Let me come with you. I swear I only wish to protect you. I understand Anora better now. I… grievously underestimated the extent of her ambition. I won’t make the same mistake twice. I swear I will do anything to make up for my error, Commander. Give me another chance.”

His eyes were angry rather than pleading. Begging was not his way, at least not with me. I respected that about him. He was angry with himself, and with Anora — that much I could see.

I knew he regretted his actions; but I couldn’t put aside my own bitter anger with him. He didn’t deserve it. He reminded me too much of his father, right now. All those ugly feelings about Rendon Howe came flooding back inside my heart, like venom into a wound. “I don’t think so, Nate. Not this time. I don’t know if I’ll ever trust you again.” I turned away. “I’ll just ask one thing of you, if I’m still your commander. Don’t let Anora kick the Wardens out of Ferelden. And don’t let them swear fealty to the crown. You know that would cause a fatal rift with the First Warden and all that we stand for.”

“Commander!”

I went to the door. “Oh, and if you see Alistair, tell him I love him, would you?”

#

We were almost at the hidden side door that I’d used years ago to infiltrate the palace. A soft voice stopped me in my tracks. “Your Highness!”

“Amethyne? What are you doing here?”

The elf stepped out of the shadows. “Take me with you, your Highness.”

I put my hands on her shoulders. I saw that her wide eyes were filled with determination. “Now, why would you want to come on the run with us? It’ll be cold and dangerous on the road, and we’re traveling far.”

“Just because I’m a servant doesn’t mean I’m not willing to endure hardships,” she said fiercely. “I have no loyalty to Chancellor Mac Tir, your Highness. I am sworn to you. You saved me from the Alienage and trained me to be a queen’s maid. I want to come with you.”

“I appreciate that, Amie. But I can’t let you endanger yourself. If you’d like to help me, then stay here. Tell the king the truth of what’s happened. Keep an eye on Anora. Find a way to send word. Above all, stay alive.” I embraced her quickly and kissed her on her forehead. “And pray for our safety.”

Her eyes shone with tears. “Yes, your Highness.”

I pressed her hand one last time and then Justine and I were away. We had to knock out a few more guards, but at this point I was on a cold rampage. I would have gladly taken out a hundred of them. In less than an hour we were out of the city and trotting to meet Aneirin at his camp.

The elf took it all in stride. “I’ll never understand human politics,” was his only comment. “What is your plan, Commander?”

I had no idea. “Montsimmard,” I said. It was as good a place as any. “We’ll go meet with the Orlesian Wardens. We’ll need horses and supplies. We’ll get them at the next village we come to.” I shouldered my bow and checked my daggers. “I suppose we’re rebels now.”


	14. Halamshiral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to meet Alistair! Poor Elissa has waited so long ... :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!! xoxo

We traveled by night, with Aneirin and Biscuit finding safe paths. The closer we got to the Frostback mountains, the worse the biting cold became. We traded with a traveling dwarven merchant for fur-lined cloaks, hats, and shearling boots. The four of us shared a tent during camp, which helped keep us warm, and I was never more grateful for Biscuit’s reassuring mass next to me. Yet the wind continually chipped away at us and even Aneirin’s cheerfulness slowly wore away.

Every hour I heard the whispering insistence of the Old God tugging at me. Aneirin had tried several methods to contain the voice, and he’d made things easier for me, but he’d reached the limits of his ability to help and I didn’t want to risk his coming into the Fade with me again. The tea he brewed helped to numb the headaches. But the voice was growing in strength hour by hour. It got so bad that I longed for an ambush just to get my mind off the constant chiming.

But Justine was the most affected. She’d always been stoic, and not the most talkative traveling companion, but she now seemed withdrawn as well, and pale in a way I didn’t like. Simple noises seemed to startle her, and more than once I glanced over to find her brooding, hand on Starfang’s hilt, huddled in her cloak, staring off into the distance at something I couldn’t see.

“How are you holding up?” I asked, one afternoon, four days out of Denerim. The day was clear but all the more chilly for that, and Aneirin had to use magic to push a clear path through the deep snow.

“Fine, your Highness,” said Justine, but her conviction rang hollow and her eyes were haunted.

“We’re going to make this right,” I said. “Don’t worry. You’re under my protection.”

The look she gave me said she was doubtful of my ability to protect her. “I would like to join the Wardens in Orlais,” she said.

“What about your oath to the king?”

“He’d understand. Besides, what use has he for an accused traitor?” Her face didn’t change expression, but her voice was so bitter I almost flinched.

She must have noticed because the set lines of her mouth softened a little and she said, “I’m sorry, your Highness. I’ve lived for so long with the burdens of other people’s suspicions, and I am weary.”

“It’s not right,” I said. “I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer for being Orlesian.”

“It’s not only that,” she murmured. I waited for more, but she had lasted into silence and sat slumped on her horse, staring at the road ahead.

“You think the Wardens are the answer?”

“It is the oath that cannot be forsworn. They will take me for my strength, my commitment, without regard for my allegiance. My honor has been stained, your Highness.”

“Don’t be such a bloody Chevalier! Keep it in perspective, Justine. Anora is the only one who believes you’ve done something wrong.” And even she might not actually believe it — I wouldn’t put it past her to manipulate this incident to her gain, regardless of what she actually thought the truth was.

Justine shook her head. “I belong neither in Orlais or Ferelden. For those who have no nation, the Wardens are our only home. At least I can still do some good fighting darkspawn.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her about the Joining, the Calling, and the Deep Roads, but I stopped myself. “The oath is its own burden to bear, Justine.”

“Yet you bore it.”

“I had little choice.” I was surprised at how raw I felt. I thought I had come to terms with this years ago. Apparently, I had not. I sometimes still wondered if I’d done the right thing.

“Nor do I, now,” she said, and would say no more. I didn’t press her.

# 

We heard precious little news about Denerim on the way, partly because I avoided contact with other Fereldans, and partly because it seemed there was little news to be had. One merchant who sold us dried fruit and meats mentioned that the Hero of Ferelden had disappeared.

“Disappeared how?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Just walked out one day, is what I heard. The Wardens have no leader, and the king has no queen.”

Aneirin and I exchanged glances. “How do Fereldans feel about it?”

The dwarf shrugged. “How would you feel? Thank the Maker for the Chancellor, is what I’ve heard. She’s keeping a steady hand on the rudder.”

I grit my teeth and held my tongue. I had to hand it to her, Anora knew exactly how to wage a war of words and perceptions. I should have heeded Leliana’s warning more carefully. I was afraid to know, but I forced myself to ask: “And what of the king? Any news of his return?”

The merchant had not heard.

Alistair had now been gone five weeks. How much longer could we afford to let Anora play her game unhindered?

Perhaps I should not have left Ferelden. What will Alistair think when he gets home?

What does he think now? Have the reports of my disappearance reached him, across the Waking Sea? I needed to write to him.

If only Nate were here, he could send a raven. I’d have to wait until we met up with the Orlesian Wardens for that. I no longer trusted that couriers would get through without being slowed by the weather — or other, more nefarious, forces.

 #

After several more days we finally reached the Frostback Mountains and the pass that crossed over into Orlais. I left Aneirin and Justine by the side of the road and went ahead to scout. There could be soldiers watching the border.

It was a particularly rotten night when I went to go see if the crossing was clear. A sleeting, icy rain had begun to fall just as I reached the opening in the mountains. Sure enough, there was a small guard posted, with a makeshift camp. The soldiers were huddled around a sputtering fire and their faint Orlesian cursing reached me.

I looked for a way around. The sides of the mountain were steep here, and on the right was the shore of the Waking Sea, which offered very little cover. We could circle back and look for another pass through the Frostbacks, but that seemed risky.

No, we’d have to go through here. Perhaps the soldiers would not detain us.

I reached our camp and relayed the news. I said, “Justine, perhaps you could talk to them. Tell them you’re an Orlesian merchant, and we’re your guards, heading home after selling out goods.”

She bit her lip. I hadn’t realized before how nervous she seemed, in addition to being quiet and depressed.

Aneirin noticed it too. “Is everything all right, Justine?”

She looked down, avoiding our eyes. “I am not good at pretense. I am just a simple soldier, not a bard. If they detect anything amiss, we may be in danger. I would not like to put all of us at risk.”

“But they wouldn’t attack us,” I said. “They’d just ask more questions.”

“I wouldn’t know how to answer them, your Highness. Please.” She looked at me, and I could see the desperation in her eyes.

Aneirin said, “I think I can help. There are only four of them, yes?”

I nodded.

The elf asked us to wait and walked off in the direction of the soldier’s camp.

Intensely curious, I followed. Aneirin stayed out of sight with a skill that impressed me, and I am trained in shadow-stealth. I had not realized mages could be so stealthy. I could barely make him out against the snow and trees as he stole to the edge of their fire and then seemed to murmur something I could not hear. He extended his staff, and a moment later, the soldiers were yawning. They fell to the ground like puppets whose strings had been cut. Aneirin turned and beckoned us to pass.

“Handy trick,” I whispered to him as we stepped by the snoring soldiers.

“Yes,” was all he said.

 #

On the second day after crossing the border into Orlais, Aneirin said he wanted to try a new technique to quiet the Old God singing in my blood. As we made camp in the shelter of an ancient ruin, he took out the shard of the Eluvian and kneeled in front of me. “As you know, I’ve been studying Avernus’s notes. His experiments indicate a very interesting method for altering the composition of blood in a Grey Warden’s body. I don’t have his expertise, of course, but I do have this.” He nodded at the piece of glass. “I think it’s time to try drawing out some of the corruption into the shard.”

“With blood magic?”

A trace of frustration touched the elf’s mouth. “I need power, Elissa. We don’t have any lyrium, so I’ll have to use blood. I’m not going to summon any demons or try to control you. I’m a healer. I would never harm you.”

I cast a glance at Justine, who huddled in her cloak with her hood up, keeping a lookout with Biscuit. She had her back to us.

“All right,” I said quietly. “I’m desperate. I can’t function if the voice has control over me. Do what you must.”

Aneirin put a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you for trusting me.” Then he drew a small bone dagger from his belt and, chanting softly in elvish, sliced his palm open. His blood spilled bright on the white snow, then started to glimmer with power. He took my hand in his and covered it with his own blood. Then he grasped the shard of the Eluvian and pulled it slowly across my left palm, drawing blood.

The voice roared within me and I swayed, almost faint. My vision blackened. I saw the shard of glass pulse with dark power and felt the warmth of Aneirin’s blood magic cover my hand and creep up my arm. My blood poured into the Eluvian and strangely, did not spill.

I began to tremble. I glanced up at his face and saw that it was ashen, as grey as stone. His lips moved as he chanted, and his eyes were hooded and gazed at something I could not see.

I cried out. Aneirin stopped, and pulled the Eluvian away from me. “What happened? Are you all right?”

Justine came running up. “Your Highness! Are you hurt?” She looked down and saw my bleeding hand.

“No, I’m fine.” I quickly wrapped my hand in gauze. Aneirin and Justine exchanged glances — hers suspicious, his defiant. Biscuit leaned into me and nuzzled my neck reassuringly.

Miraculously, the voice was muted. It was as if I had shut the door on a cacophony of voices. It was audible, but farther away. I managed to smile at the elf. “Thank you.”

He had wrapped the shard of magical glass in leather again. I noticed his hands were shaking.

 #

In another week or so, we had finally crossed the Frostbacks and we descended into the Dales. I had thought we might never be warm again, given the way were were whipped by icy winds. But when we reached the first valley, the weather suddenly eased as though we had passed through a curtain. A wan winter sun shone on our backs. Hardy blades of grass and even winter crocuses greeted us, waving their purple petals at us as we walked. Birdsong serenaded us from the desolate branches.

Aneirin seemed more cheerful than I’d seen him in days. “Spring is near,” he said. “I can feel it in the air. The worst of the winter is past us now.”

“Not a moment too soon,” said Justine. She was utterly miserable. She had contracted a cold during our crossing and she sneezed constantly. Her eyes were red and runny and her voice was just a croak.

Aneirin clapped her heartily on the back. “Good news, my lady knight! Here I may replenish my herbs and brew you something to fight off that sickness. In return, perhaps you might consent to hunting some game for us. I am tired of dried meat and fruit!”

“We should be in Halamshiral soon,” I said. “We can resupply there.”

We passed out of the deep forest and faced a lovely glade. Massive columns limned the side of the road, clearly ancient and in disrepair, but still graceful.

“This is the ancient land of the elves,” Aneirin said in a hushed voice. “They leave traces of their civilization.”

Indeed, there were monuments to the past all along the road. Aneirin put his hand on one beautifully carved piece of wall. He closed his eyes as if he could hear the voices of the elves. “If only we knew more about our ancestors. What they did, why they built these. Imagine all these lands populated by my people.”

“There are still Dalish here,” I said. I was on guard, as some Dalish did not take kindly to shemlen, as they called us.

He spared me a pitying look. “Yes. Shadows of their former selves. Those that remain now skulk out of sight where they once were proud.”

 #

A day later, we were within sight of the city. We could see it in the valley below as we descended. We paused to gaze down the broad snowy valley to the ancient city of the elves. It was magnificent. Golden spires pierced the pale sky, and its walls gleamed like marble. The sight took my breath away.

Aneirin drew a long breath. “Halamshiral,” he breathed. “More beautiful than I dreamed.”

 #

We entered the city late that afternoon, passing through its golden gates. Its splendor made Denerim look like a dirty backwater town. Walking on the scrubbed flagstones lightly dusted with snow, I wished for the first time since leaving Ferelden that I was not in my safe, drab disguise, but in my Warden Commander ceremonial armor, polished to a high shine, and complemented by a helmet topped with snowy white plumes. Such finery seemed only fitting in this place.

To my surprise, Aneirin was just as eager as I to enter the city, in spite of his general dislike of walls and crowds. “I’ll make an exception for Halamshiral,” he said. “It is a monument to the elves of old, built upon the ruins of an ancient elven civilization. Thus our glory has faded into the twilight.”

“I’ve never seen so many elves before,” I said in wonder. The elves were so well-dressed and confident, gliding through the streets. They might be servants, but they dressed better than many Ferelden banns.

Justine was uncomfortable. Perhaps it was her lingering cold, but she kept the hood up on her cloak and skulked behind us. I turned to her. “Aren’t you glad to be back in your homeland? Is there anyone you wish to see to make contact with? Family members, perhaps?”

She shook her head. “No, there is no one.” Then she lapsed again into silence.

I wracked my memories for everything I’d been taught about Orlesian politics. “The Empress should be here this season, I think, residing at the Winter Palace.”

“Perhaps we should go visit her,” Aneirin said. “She probably has some dry clothes we can borrow, and a warm place to sit.”

“We should resupply and move on,” Justine said abruptly. “We are still days from Montsimmard.”

“What’s your hurry?” Aneirin lifted his hands, taking in all the luxury around us. “Surely we can relax for a few days here. No one knows us, and no one will be looking for us.”

“It would be nice to eat a hot meal that none of us had to cook, too,” I said. “And I wouldn’t say no to a dry bed that isn’t in danger of being snowed in, for once.”

Justine nodded curtly and said nothing more.

As we strolled towards the markets, the crowds got thicker and we found we were walking straight into some sort of commotion on the boulevard. “What’s happening?” Justine asked no one in particular.

We heard shouting in Ferelden voices. “Make way! Make way for the King of Ferelden!”

Justine squealed very uncharacteristically with excitement. “The Royal Guard! King Alistair!”

 _Alistair_. The name beat wings inside my ribcage. My breath fluttered. Could it really be? Here, of all places?

The citizens scattered like gaily dressed birds before a cantering horse. The crowd jostled us off to the side, but I shoved my way through to the front of the line so I could see.

My heart soared. There were the red lions rampant, emblems of the Theirin, stamped on the banners that snapped proudly in the breeze. The soldiers marched shoulder to shoulder in their glittering armor, looking absolutely magnificent. My eyes blurred with fierce pride and love for my home and my nation.

And in their midst was Alistair. My eye flew to him, hungry to absorb every beloved detail. He wore Cailin’s golden armor, helmet held casually under his arm, looking just a bit weary, yet smiling at the crowd. He’d lost his youthful awkwardness and what remained was humility and a down-to-earth attitude that had forever endeared him to Fereldans. The sun shone on his tousled, honey-colored hair, lighting it with an incandescent glow. My hands flew to my mouth to stifle my sobs of relief and excitement. I elbowed aside the Orlesians in front of me. I had to get to him. If only I could catch his eye, perhaps. He would see me, he would stop. I had to make him stop. “Alistair!” The name was on my lips before I could think. “Alistair!” My voice was drowned in the crowd.

A hand on my shoulder detained me.

“No, your Highness,” said Justine’s voice gently tugged at my ear. Her hand held me firm.

“Why?” There was nothing I wanted more than to fling my arms around him. I was ready to knock Justine aside to do that.

“Remember where we are,” she said steadily, without removing her hand. Her grip was iron but her eyes shone with tears. “Think about the Grand Game, your Highness. Consider the king’s reputation in the Empress’s Court. You must not do anything that weakens his position or causes him to lose face. Orlesians will not quickly forget such a scandalous breach of decorum.”

I bit back my scream of frustration. She was right. Every little thing mattered here in Orlais: what you wore, what you said, how you made an entrance. As Alistair’s spouse and the Commander of the Grey, did I want to appear in Halamshiral like this, covered in grime and dressed in a dirty robe? Did I want to accost the king in the street? I could picture the scene now: the king, in his golden armor, embracing an unknown vagabond smelling of the camp. Not only would it take away from his prestige in a country that already called Fereldan nobility “dog lords,” but such an act would also compromise my ability to remain undetected. I wasn’t ready to announce myself yet, not without knowing more about what Anora was up to and what news had reached Orlais.

We watched them go and my heart and soul went with them`. I desperately wanted to talk to Alistair. How could I arrange it? Could I send him a note?

Justine looked at me with tears in her eyes. “I know how you feel, your Highness. There is nothing I want more than to rejoin the guard,” she said quietly. “If they will have me.”

I rubbed my face with the back of my hand. I’d never felt more lowly and insignificant. “I know. Soon, Justine. I promise.”

I realized my cheeks were wet.


	15. A Delicate Mission

“So, how do we get into the Winter Palace? How do we gain an audience with the king?” We’d taken humble rooms above a tavern just outside the city, and I paced the threadbare rug, hoping the motion would help formulate a plan.

“You are the princess consort and Commander of the Grey,” Justine said. “You only need to look the part and provide proofs, such as your signet ring. Then you would be entitled to an audience.”

I nodded. “That seems the easiest, most direct way. But that would mean revealing my presence and my identity. Is that wise?”

“Well,” said Aneirin. “You mentioned that you don’t know what Anora’s plans are; if she finds out where you are, it’s possible she’ll go so far as to send an assassin.”

I forced myself to consider what he was saying, as outrageous as it seemed. It seemed like years ago that I was having a similar discussion with Oghren. _Think she’ll get shabby on you?_ I didn’t, then; now, I wasn’t so sure. “Good point, Aneirin. We don’t know what Anora’s done, what lies she’s spread. It might be best to keep a lower profile, for now. Could we sneak into the palace?”

Justine shook her head. “There are too many eyes and ears everywhere. Not only the guards, but spies. The Empress has an extensive network.”

“I have to talk to him.” I slammed my fist into my palm. “I cannot be in the same city and not see him.”

Justine cleared her throat. “Highness, there is another matter. Why would the king be here in Halamshiral? He should have been back in Denerim by now.”

I’d been wondering that as well, although my joy at being in the same city with him had all but eclipsed every other thought but scheming how to meet him. I nodded. “We should be wary. The political situation may have changed without our knowing it. It’s possible that Alistair is here on an important, possibly delicate, mission.”

“And we should be careful not to unwittingly distract him,” Justine said, a loyal king’s woman to the end.

I gnawed my lip. “Blast, I wish I knew more about what’s happening.”

Aneirin cleared his throat. “I have an idea. I’ve noticed that there are many elven servants at the palace. Servants often hear far more than their masters intend. I could ask around and see what I find.”

“Good idea,” I said, although my impatience threatened to flare out of control. Delays, and more delays. Yet Justine was right to urge caution. “And perhaps you could approach one with a bribe to get a message to the king?”

Aneirin considered this. “Perhaps. I’ve found that there’s often a shared understanding among elves that transcends a nation’s boundaries. I think I can make a case that an elf would be sympathetic to. I might even be able to smuggle myself in. But let me see what I find out first.”

Justine shook her head.“I advise against it. The moment you open you mouth, you will betray yourself as being from Ferelden. You risk exposing us or worse — arrest.”

“Maybe. Or maybe not. Let me do a little scouting in the city, Elissa.”

I looked between Aneirin and Justine. The elf’s face was suffused with eagerness, Justine’s with wariness. “All right, Aneirin. But be careful.”

#

Justine and I waited, bursting with anticipation. Aneirin was away all day and all night. “What if something’s happened?” Justine said. She hadn’t left our rooms in all that time. I’d gone out to the markets, as discreetly as I could, in a vain attempt to while away the hours.

“He would have sent word,” I reassured her, although I had no idea how he would have managed that.

Our patience was rewarded the next morning when Aneirin returned, as cheerful as ever and full of news.

“Whew! Well, I’ve made contact with several sympathetic elves,” he said, taking off his cloak. “Is there anything to drink?”

“What have you been doing, out all night?” I smiled, though; now that he had news, Aneirin could do no wrong.

Aneirin winked. “I fell in with a particularly friendly group and we ended up carousing all night. Which is why I’m as thirsty as a desert horse.” He took up the clay jug and drank from it. “Ah. Better.”

“So?” I danced on my toes, unable to contain myself. “What did you learn?”

“The Empress is holding a ball to celebrate the end of winter, and a festival of tournaments. To all appearances, the king is here on a purely ceremonial capacity to take part in the galas. But the servants from the Royal Palace tell me that he’s been in meetings with Empress Celene, and that there are rumors that Ferelden plans to exile all Orlesians living in their borders.”

“What!”

“The king, they say, appears drawn and tense after his meetings.”

“Blast. This is Anora’s doing. What about getting us a meeting?”

“Ah, I was coming to that. Yes, they’ll smuggle us in. We’ve got a plan. You’ll pose as a Warden with an important message. I don’t think we can get a mabari war hound in, though.”

Biscuit whined, and Justine scratched his ears. “I can stay with Biscuit. Don’t worry, boy. We’ll go for a nice long walk and I’ll get you a lovely soup bone as a treat.” Biscuit barked his approval of the scheme.

Then she turned to Aneirin, brow furrowed. “The elves at the palace will help us out of the goodness of their hearts? That’s not the way things are done in the Orlais that I remember.”

“Well.” Aneirin looked slightly embarrassed. “I told them that I was an emissary for the Queen of Ferelden, who is sending a message for the king to petition the Empress for more freedom for elves across Thedas.”

“Of course,” I said quickly. “Whatever I can do to help. Elves _should_ have more freedom, and if your elven contacts want proof of the queen’s support, I can furnish an official letter, signed and sealed with my insignia. When do we go? What do we have to do to prepare?”

“Be careful, your Highness,” said Justine. “Elves or no, all Orlesians at the Winter Palace are practitioners of the Grand Game.”

#

The plan was to present me as a Senior Warden in disguise, and Aneirin as my servant and companion. Warden Bryland — my mother’s maiden name — would be my cover. I cleaned my leathers and took a bath, and put on a new robe over the armor. Justine repeated her warning. “I will lay low until I hear from you,” she said. “I am not eager to enter the palace, unless it be as a Ferelden royal guard, fully reinstated. Or as a Grey Warden.”

“Don’t worry, Justine. As soon as I speak to Alistair, I know he’ll send for you.”

 #

Aneirin and I walked up to the gates of the Winter Palace.

The guards were not amenable, saying that the Palace was closed to petitioners that day, but a high-ranking elven servant came by with word that the King of Ferelden was expecting me.

I paid her two gold sovereigns and she showed us in to a small antechamber off to the side of the grand foyer. “I will let the King know you are here,” she said.

# 

We waited. I torn between anticipation and agony. I wanted nothing more than to hold Alistair close, but I would not be able to hide from him what I was experiencing — the voice of the Old God thrumming in my veins. He would see it in my face, and he would know instantly that something was wrong. I dreaded having to tell him. I couldn’t shake Nate’s words: _I would do my best to spare those I love the pain of knowing I go to meet my death._

He was stronger than I.

# 

I almost lost control when I heard that familiar voice. At first I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t discern the words. They drifted towards me from down the hall, getting closer. “All right, out with it. Is this another messenger from Anora? Maker’s breath, if she sends me one more warning about an Orlesian conspiracy, I’ll…”

The beloved voice trailed off. I looked up to see that face I loved so well. It was as if I’d seen him yesterday, and also as if I hadn’t seen him in a thousand years. Tears flooded my eyes but my body was frozen.

He stood there for one eternal moment, and then in two swift steps he’d closed the distance between us. His eyes met mine for a fraction of a second before he crushed me tightly to his chest.

His breath was warm against my hair, his voice a murmur that caressed my ear. “I don’t care how or why you are here. You might just be a vision of the Fade but Maker’s breath, I’ll punch the man who wakes me.”

Tears were spilling over my eyes and I could feel my cheeks getting wet against his armored chest. “Oh, Alistair.” I choked. There was so much I wanted to say that suddenly I couldn’t say anything. A huge sob wracked my chest.

Alistair only held me and stroked my hair. When the sobs had settled, I tilted my head and looked up. His mouth met mine in a deep, hungry kiss.

After a few gasping breaths, I managed to get myself under control. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Not an hour goes by that I don’t miss you. But what are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining.” He smiled down at me and his fingers brushed the tears off my cheeks.“Didn’t you get my letters?”

I shook my head.

“Never mind, my love.” He kissed me on the forehead and then drew back, regarding me thoughtfully. Something clouded his features. I couldn’t quite read his eyes anymore. “I’ve heard some disturbing reports about you. They aren’t true, are they? They can’t be true.”

Aneirin took this opportunity to cough discreetly before Alistair said something he’d regret. I was grateful for the reprieve. I didn’t know what I expected when I reunited with Alistair but it wasn’t this strange feeling of having to account for myself.

“Oh, er, hello.” He nodded at Aneirin, slightly embarrassed. “You have an elven friend with you? Wait, is that … Wynne’s former apprentice?”

The elf bowed. “Indeed. I am Aneirin. Well-met, your Majesty.”

“Ah. So you must be the apostate that my wife is rumored to be scheming with.”

Aneirin grinned and bowed. “At your service, your Majesty.”

“Well, I suppose I should thank you for bringing her to me.”

“I merely helped to speed her along. Trust me, this was all her idea.”

“Now, that doesn’t surprise me at all.” Alistair turned back to me, eyes shining again.

“Your Majesty,” Aneirin said, “as the apostate mage, I believe I should make myself scarce now. I’ll slip out of the palace, by your leave, and wait for further instructions.” He looked at me. “I’ll return to Justine and the hound, your Highness. It seems you are well-situated here. Send for me when you’re ready.”

I nodded, hardly listening. I was drinking in the sight of Alistair. Joy and apprehension warred inside my heart.

When the door had shut behind Aneirin, he took both my hands in his and kissed them. I pulled my hands away so I could run them in his hair and kiss him again.

“Did Aneirin mention Justine? Ser Fidele is here?”

“Yes.” I told him briefly about meeting Justine.

“Ser Fidele is accused of being a traitor? What a mess. Utter nonsense, of course. She’d no more turn to betrayal than to blood magic.”

“I know that. And why are _you_ here? I thought you were headed back to Denerim weeks ago.”

He sighed. “I was. But I received a communication from Denerim just as I was about to return. Anora told me that the Banns were very concerned about unrest along the Orlesian border. She thought it would be useful for me to come to Orlais and talk to the Empress. There’s something going on here between her Radiance and the Grand Duke Gaspard, and Anora was worried that the conflict would overflow into Ferelden.”

I frowned. “ _Anora_ suggested it?”

“I know, I know. Look, for the record, I don’t trust her either. But when it comes to Orlais, you can’t be too careful. I thought she made a good point. And if it makes the Banns feel more secure, it’s worth the trip.” Now it was his turn to frown. “But what are _you_ doing here? You promised me you wouldn’t leave Ferelden while I was gone.”

It irked me that he didn’t trust me. “I had my reasons,” I said. “Anora is working against me. Against us. I don’t know what her ultimate goal is, but I know she means to undermine my authority and that of the Wardens.” I told him about the new law she had put in front of the Banns. “So you see, when you tell me that you were set to come home and it was Anora who delayed your return…”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes, I see what you mean. You think she was keeping me out of the way, was she?”

“Perhaps. Meanwhile, she’s capitalizing on rumors of an Orlesian invasion and getting the Wardens to either swear loyalty to the crown or kick them out of Ferelden altogether. Not to mention that she is probably planning some way to have me declared missing, or incompetent, or who knows what.” I didn’t mention assassination as a possibility, although I still wondered about that.

“I know you and the Chancellor have never seen eye to eye, but don’t you think this is a bit farfetched?”

That stopped me. It wasn’t like Alistair to doubt my judgement. “What disturbing reports have you heard about me?”

He looked down at his hands, clearly uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean disturbing. Did I say disturbing? More like distressing. As in, I’m distressed because I care about you.”

“What reports?”

“You’re ill,” he said gently. “Aren’t you?”

I swallowed. “Who did you hear this from?”

“Anora sent me a letter. She said you had collapsed in the throne room. She asked Senior Warden Howe to guard you but you gave him the slip and disappeared from the palace, sending no word about where you were going. She says it isn’t the first time you’ve taken off with no notice. You’ve taken off on your own before.”

“It’s not as though I ran off, like some wayward child. I went to Vigil’s Keep.”

“By yourself. While you were sick.”

“Oghren and Biscuit were with me. I was hardly alone. Also, I’m not sick.”

He merely looked at me, eyes filled with sincere concern and sadness.

“I’m not exactly sick,” I admitted. “I’m exhausted.”

“Of course. How stupid of me.” He wrapped me in his strong arms again. “All this can wait, Elissa. I’m sorry. You should rest and we’ll talk again after you’ve had a nap and something to eat.”

I stopped his words with a kiss. “Later,” I whispered. “We’ll deal with all this, later. Right now I have a more pressing concern.”

His smile lit my entire body with a tingling joy. “Indeed we do, my queen. I know a place where we can be alone for at least an hour.”

I nibbled at his ear. “That’s not long enough for what I have in mind, but I’ll take what I can get, I suppose. After all, the king is much in demand.”

“Your demand is the only one I care about.” He pressed my fingertips to his lips. I burned down to my toes at the promise in his eyes.

I pushed my worries to the side and focused on the present. My hand grasped his firmly, and he led me down the hall towards his quarters, dismissing his entourage as we went.

 


	16. Beloved

 

After, we lay in bed while the fire roared, my head in the comforting nook between his neck and his shoulder, my left arm and leg flung over his body possessively. I never wanted to let him go. I was warm for the first time, it seemed, in ages, and the voice was just a faint murmur, pushed aside by Alistair’s presence. He had that effect. It was hard to concentrate on anything else when he was near.

“I feel guilty,” I said. “A little. I’m sure you have a hundred things you’re supposed to be doing now.”

He chuckled. “Oh, yes. So many very important things, like listening to duchesses complain about some arcane treaty negotiation I don’t understand, or being flirted at by the count who’s trying to explain the difference between crimson and scarlet. I’m missing that _so_ much.”

“So you’re enjoying your time in the Winter Palace, then.”

“Can’t you tell? It’s nothing but fancy parties with lots of stinky cheeses and well-dressed snobs trying to kill each other.” He sighed. “I hate the Great Game, or whatever the Orlesians call it. And do you know, I’m shockingly bad at it? Who would have guessed? The stinky cheeses are nice, though.”

“It’s because you’re a terrible liar. One of the many reasons I love you.”

He returned my look with one that smoldered. “I’m a lucky man.” Then his voice turned regretful. “So, I hate to bring this up again, because I know how much we both love this subject, but… Anora.”

I sighed. “Yes.” I quickly filled him in on all that had happened in Denerim recently. “Do you believe me?”

He nodded. “I do. You don’t seem as if you’re out of your mind. I mean, not more than usual.” He grinned. “What about the rumors that you’re sick, then?”

A pang of guilt pierced me. “I’ll get to that in a minute. What are we going to do about Anora?”

He sighed and lay back against the pillow, one hand behind his head. “I should have known she’d pull something like this. I was an idiot to let her serve as Chancellor. What was I thinking? You should have tried harder to stop me.”

“It was a good idea, Alistair,” I said. “We were desperately in need of help after Arl Eamon stepped down. It was the right thing to do, to give her another chance.” Anora had actually achieved impossible tasks during the last few years. I had to respect that, and I grudgingly recognized that she would have made an excellent queen in many ways. Still, her ambition was dangerous, and she didn’t have Alistair’s moral fiber. I couldn’t regret choosing Alistair to rule Ferelden. The country needed his compassion and care, not her ruthlessness.

At least, I hoped not.

Alistair rubbed a hand across his hair. “Well, I’ll straighten it all out when we get home. I might have to banish her, or something like that. Ugh.”

“Maybe she could get married to someone. Or send her on an important mission far, far away. Don’t we need an ambassador to Tevinter?”

“Good idea. By the way. I have some news for you, too. And I warn you, you’re not going to like it.”

“Oh?” I turned on my side and propped myself up on one elbow to look at him. His face was grave.

“The Champion of Kirkwall told me that she’d recently traveled to the Vimmark Mountains, where there’s some sort of ancient Grey Warden prison.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Have you noticed how frequently that happens? We find out about some ancient Grey Warden thing that no one claims to have known about? We really need to be better at writing things down. Anyway. This prison housed an ancient Tevinter magister, imprisoned centuries ago by the Wardens of the Free Marches. Or at least, he used to be a Tevinter magister. He’d been corrupted into some sort of super darkspawn.”

“How ancient? And he was still _alive_?”

“Not sure how old he was, but he’s not alive anymore. Hawke killed him.”

I studied his face. “But…”

He gave me a wry smile. “Yes. But. We both know that where darkspawn are concerned, ‘dead’ may not be _dead_ dead. Like the archdemons, who can jump into tainted bodies. So… who knows? The body of this ancient magister, at least, is mouldering away in the Vimmark mountains. I think it’s worth investigating further. I thought you might want to ask the Wardens in the Free Marches to look into it, but you might consider sending your own people, too.”

“Good idea,” I said, although I wondered who I could send. The Vimmark Mountains were far away. _Maybe a good assignment for Lieutenant Howe_ , I thought bitterly. _If I am indeed still the Commander of the Grey_.

“Anyway,” Alistair continued, “the other interesting tidbit is that Hawke also reports seeing an Altar of Dumat there at the prison.”

“Why would the Wardens have an altar to an Old God in their prison?”

“I’m not sure. But it got me thinking. And you know how I hate that. It never leads anywhere good.”

I kissed his bare shoulder. “Sometimes it does. Sometimes you have good thoughts. What are you thinking now?” I trailed my fingers along the skin of his shoulder and arm. There were old scars there, including one long stripe along his bicep from the time he had defended me against the ogre during our first real battle, in the Tower of Ishal.

“You minx. You’re trying to distract me. But it won’t work! Ha! Your wiles are not match for my will of steel! Actually, that’s a lie, and you know it.” He nuzzled my neck with a soft sigh. “Maker, I’ve missed this.”

We let ourselves be distracted for a bit and then came up for air.

“Sorry,” I said. “So, what were you thinking? About this altar.”

“Right. So I was wondering, maybe the place wasn’t always a Warden prison. Maybe they just… took it over. Maybe it was a resting place for the original archdemon, I mean, before he became an archdemon, when he was an Old God. Maybe it was his prison.”

I lay back on the pillows, absorbing this. So the prisons could be in this world, not in the Black City as I’d started to believe. If I could find the locations of other such places… but who would know? The darkspawn searched for them for years. Could the voice lead me to Lusacan’s prison?

“Alistair,” I said. “I have to tell you something.”

“Oh no. I know that look. I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“No. You’re not. I hate it. But I have to tell you. I’m not exactly sick. At least, not in the usual sense. I’m… hearing the voice of an Old God. The god Lusacan, Dragon of Night. It’s like the Calling, or what I imagine the Calling to be, only I don’t think it’s a true Calling.”

He’d gone completely still. “What are you saying?”

I turned to look at him. His eyes were almost unreadable, but I could see the flicker of panic just behind their light. “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “But I have to do something, Alistair, before it takes my mind. Or forces me into the Deep Roads.”

“No. No, I won’t let that happen.” He pulled me towards him in a fierce embrace, his words against my hair. “Never, my love. We’ve talked about this. We always planned to find a way to deal with the Calling.”

“Yes. But I thought we’d have years. Years to research, to investigate. I don’t know how much longer I have left. If I have to go…”

“No.”

“Alistair. If I have to, promise me you’ll go on. Keep searching for a cure. Stay on the throne. Don’t let Anora drag this country into war as she seems so determined to do. And—“ My voice broke. “Marry again, Alistair. Have a child. Promise me.”

“I won’t. I can’t promise you that. Don’t make me. What I will promise you is that I won’t let you die without me.”

 _I don’t want to die alone._ I couldn’t help it. I was so tired of being strong. I let myself fall against his chest and cried.


End file.
